A Kidnapped Healer
by Elfwarrior96
Summary: Who was Mistaro? Where did he come from? How did he start as the chief healer of Gondolin and become a healer for the Fëanorians? How did he meet the twin sons of Eärendil? This is his story, with appearances by Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond, Elros, Amras, and Maeassil. Might go to the abandonment of Himring, might not. I guess we will all find out.
1. Chapter 1

Time Frame: After the Destruction of Gondolin and before the sacking of Sirion, for now.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to the great and powerful Tolkien. Any others belong to me. Please ask before using! :)

A/N: Hi everyone, so I thought I would start another story, even though I have enough on my plate without adding to it. _Anyways..._here is a new story that I thought would be interesting to you all if you have read "To Find A Home And A Family" and want to see where Mistaro fits into everything that happens in that story. I have no idea where this story will end, but hopefully it will be a bit shorter than "To Find A Home". I planned to make this a oneshot, but that definitely did not happen. I'm sure you know how that goes :) Please read, review, and enjoy! See you next time! 

* * *

The destruction of Gondolin was behind them, and Mistaro was relieved that they had survived. His parents, his very young sister, and his fiance were with him. Around him were others that had survived, exhaustion in their step and shock in their eyes. They could not believe what had just happened.

They were safe, for now.

Others had not survived, Mistaro was painfully aware of this, sadness in his eyes as he remembered the destruction of his home. They had been preparing to celebrate the Gates of Summer atop the eastern walls to greet the sun. The enemy had come from the north and west, and by the time they noticed it had been too late. The city and her king had fallen; Turgon dying in defense of the Citadel, Ecthelion of the Fountain slaying Gothmog the Chief of Balrogs in single combat, and that was when hope seemed to fail. It returned though when Idril and Tuor gathered all they could to them and led those survivors to a hidden passageway near their house. There the way had been blocked by Maeglin, but in a fit of anger because of his treachery Tuor had flung him to his death. All that could had escaped that day, but they had been followed.

A Balrog pursued them, and it was there atop the high passes that Glorfindel, Chief of the House of the Golden Flower, had made a stand. He had fought valiantly and ferociously, defending his people with all the bravery in his heart and courage in his being, and he had triumphed. But the triumph was short-lived; as the Balrog fell from the high pass he had grabbed Glorfindel. Mistaro, who had been walking with his friend only minutes before, could only cry out as the Balrog and Glorfindel fell to their deaths, still fighting till the end. Those that heard him came running, and they waited with bated breath as a Great Eagle disappeared into the blackness.

He appeared an hour later, bearing the broken and burned body of Glorfindel. The great and wise elf was dead, the last chief of his house. Mistaro had taken his friend and carried him until they found a suitable place for him. There they buried him, all lamenting the loss of such a bright soul and powerful elf-lord who cared for all in his city.

But they had to keep moving. Finally, as that first night fell, they stopped to rest. Legolas, of the House of the Tree, set a watch of those with the keenest eyes and ears, alert for any danger or threat. Once the watch had been set and fires started and water gathered, Mistaro had set to work. He was a healer and badly needed. He tended the warriors and most seriously wounded first, having brought his pack with him. It had everything he could need, including herbs. As he tended the seriously wounded, other healers and apprentices that had survived tended minor wounds and easy-to-mend broken bones.

All of those healers were glad Mistaro had survived: he had been the chief healer in Gondolin and was the most skilled of all there. He was the best healer the city had and he was able to do one of the most difficult things in the arts of healing: complicated surgery without proper equipment and without proper facilities. He could perform surgery out in the Wilds, and that was a difficult thing for other healers to say.

Finally, wounds were tended and the camp settled for the night. Only then did Mistaro seek out his family. He had stayed with Glorfindel and tended the warriors throughout the trek, while his family stayed up front with Idril and Tuor and Eärendil, and had not been able to walk with them. His fiance, Quildolorë, was grieving; none of her family had survived the sack. He held her close but said nothing as she cried into his shoulder. He only held her closer as he looked over his parents. His mother, Indilien, stared at the fire in shock, unable to understand what had just happened and that her home was gone. His father, Laurorno, was more composed. He had survived the Grinding Ice of Helcaraxë and was aware of the curse of the Noldor. His mother was a Silvan that had met Laurorno when they had briefly stopped at Thingol's halls. She had given up everything to be with his father, but Mistaro could not begin to imagine what it was like to leave _another_ home.

And finally, his little sister Elmendië, no more than ten years old. She was sleeping wrapped in a blanket Indilien had grabbed from somewhere before they fled, the terror and stress of the day wearing his sister out completely. Bandages were wrapped around her arm and leg where burning wood had fallen on her for a brief second before Laurorno had pulled her free. His hands were wrapped in bandages as well.

A sigh from his mother caused him to look up, and Mistaro looked into her exhausted eyes, so different from his own. Her eyes were as green as leaves, while his father's eyes were gray. Where Mistaro's deep blue eyes and teak-colored hair had come from was a mystery to them all, but almost everyone agreed it gave him a unique, exotic, and unbelievably handsome appearance. But he belonged only to Quildolorë, and that would never change.

He thought of none of that as she sighed again before saying, "We have lost everything. Our homes, our livelihoods, our friends. What is left?" voice dead and flat.

"Us," Mistaro said simply, "We are what is left. We have our families, and that is all we need. Home and friends we will have again, I know it. We just need faith," holding an exhausted Quildolorë closer as he said this.

Indilien smiled tiredly, "And again you prove you are wiser than I, my son. We have not lost everything if we have each other."

Mistaro smiled in return, glancing at his father a moment later. Laurorno only nodded before turning back to the fire. He had always been an elf of few words and many actions. He would never say what was truly on his mind but his actions would always say more than words ever could.

They quieted and settled down for the night after meager rations were passed out; unaware of the eyes watching them, and Mistaro especially, for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next day they set out once more, Legolas leading the way; his keen eyes alert for danger, whether it was Dark creatures or a dangerous part of the trail.

Mistaro carried Elmendië, who was still asleep, to give his father a break. He knew Laurorno's hands were painful and needed to be used as little as possible. Behind him others walked, the more seriously wounded on stretchers made from branches and cloaks and blankets. Mistaro stayed nearby to monitor their condition.

His parents walked ahead of them, Laurorno helping Indilien as best he could, and next to him walked Quildolorë. She had been silent for much of the day, only whispering, "I hope the worst is behind us now," Mistaro had said nothing, knowing that they were not near anyplace that could be called safe. And they would not be until they reached the coast.

Hopefully, Lord Círdan would have sympathy for them even after they had ignored the warning his master Ulmo had sent through Tuor. Mistaro looked ahead to Tuor then, watching the man walk with his head high and young Eärendil in his arms. Did the man blame himself for all those that were not saved? Mistaro hoped not. If it had not been for the foresight and wisdom of Idril and Tuor all would have perished, or worse: become slaves and thralls of Morgoth.

Elmendië shifting in his arms made him look down, and he smiled when he saw she was awake, "Good morning, little sister," he said with a smile.

Elmendië yawned before saying, "Good morning to you too," she opened her eyes then and looked around, taking in the steep path they were on and the tired faces around them. She looked up at her brother, tears coming to her eyes, "It really happened? Home is gone? Uncle Glorfindel is gone?"

Mistaro smiled sadly; Elmendië had been calling Glorfindel "uncle" for as long as she could speak. He had been such a fixture at their dinner table he had become part of the family.

"Yes, little sister, home is really gone. It was not a bad dream, I'm sorry," Mistaro said gently.

Elmendië stared at him a moment, then buried her face in his shoulder, sobs wracking her frame a moment later. Mistaro could only hold her close and keep walking. After many long minutes, Elmendië's tears stopped, and she was still. Then Mistaro's ears caught a strange sound: a humming sound that gradually became a soft song.

Elmendië was singing, a lament to the fallen. At first, she was the only one, but then Quildolorë next to them joined in and so did Mistaro's parents ahead of them. Soon others around them joined as well, and then more, and more, until the entire group was singing a lament. It was soft to keep the enemy from hearing them, but they sang until they had left the mountains behind and were in the dense forests of Dimbar on their way to what was once the great realm of Doriath, making their way towards the coast. With luck, they would be able to find the Havens of Sirion and hopefully be accepted there.

They did not have anywhere else to go if they could not go there.

Behind them eyes watched, waiting for a mistake that would get them what they wanted.

* * *

Night had fallen and the group had stopped again to make camp. Legolas again set the watch, choosing a place easily defensible with tall trees. Sentries in the trees would be able to see orcs coming for miles from the north. Unfortunately, those trees were only along one side of the camp, the northern side, so the sentries would not be able to see much coming from the other three directions. But Legolas had instructed the watch to be extremely vigilant everywhere else, and he had no intention of letting any enemy get near the camp.

The camp was soon settled for the night, hunters able to catch a few small birds and rabbits for stew. Mistaro, after helping tend the wounded once more, helped collect herbs, roots, and mushrooms for the stew, directing them away from the poisonous ones.

The stew, while thin, was good that night. The few children that had survived ate first, followed by the she-elves, and then the elves and Tuor.

Once meals were eaten everyone settled down to rest, except for Mistaro. He could find no calmness in his mind, or peace, and he knew sleep would elude him as it had done before. The traumas of the last few days were still too near, especially the loss of his friends. It would take a long while to make peace with Glorfindel's death and the deaths of so many others, and also make peace that he had survived and they had not. What did the Valar have in store for them next?

Mistaro gently untangled himself from Elmendië, who only rolled over and went back to sleep. He smiled and kissed her gently on the brow, whispering, "_Nalyë vanima, nitya onorë_," before standing quietly. Habit drove him to grab his healing pack, and he slipped away from his family, needing some solitude.

He made his way to Legolas, who was patrolling the southern border of their camp. Legolas whipped around when he sensed movement, a hand on his sword, but relaxed when he saw it was Mistaro. Mistaro cocked an eyebrow in amusement, "I hope I did not surprise you?"

Legolas shook his head, "No, you did not," laughter in his eyes, "I am just always prepared," his smile faded a little, "What are you doing awake, Mistaro? It has been a long day, and it will be just as long tomorrow."

Mistaro smiled sadly, "I could not sleep, I have too much on my mind."

"Glorfindel?" Legolas asked gently, knowing the two of them had been close friends.

Mistaro nodded, "Yes, him and others we have lost," he looked away a moment, trying to control his tears. When he looked back he said, "I thought a walk would settle my mind. I know it is dangerous," he hurried to say when Legolas looked ready to object, "But I need a few minutes away from everyone. I will be back before you know it."

Legolas hesitated before nodding slowly. He understood Mistaro's need for solitude all too well, "Very well, but keep to the south; we know the enemy is not there, we scouted the direction earlier," he grabbed Mistaro's arm and said when Mistaro made to walk past him, "If you are not back in fifteen minutes I am personally dragging you back here. I am _not_ losing another friend if I can help it."

"Fifteen minutes," Mistaro agreed, "that is all I need."

Legolas nodded and let him go, watching him silently disappear into the forest. Only when he was out of sight did Legolas turn away, unaware of the eyes watching and then following Mistaro.

* * *

Mistaro walked quickly but silently through the undergrowth. He was already past the sentries Legolas had set and was glad for the peace of the forest. Perhaps it was his Silvan side that had desired the quiet song of the trees and humming of the blades of grass and leaves.

He certainly needed that peace, he realized as he walked. The last few days had been full of desperate panic and sheer terror, it was no wonder he could find no peace. He had been functioning almost automatically and now his mind had finally caught up with him.

Mistaro shook his head, pausing against a tree in a clearing for a moment and looking around. He had gone farther then he intended. He needed to return to the camp, as soon as possible.

He turned back but had only gone two strides when something told him he was not alone. He looked around warily, trying to hear or see what was nearby.

There was nothing. Mistaro looked around once more before shaking his head. His mind was playing tricks with him again. He turned back to the camp but turned back around almost immediately when he heard a twig snap behind him.

In the next instant, something heavy slammed into his head and he knew no more.

* * *

It had not even been ten minutes when Legolas felt there was something wrong. He could not understand why, but he did not question it.

He had not survived this long by questioning his instincts.

Legolas quickly grabbed a few elves to go with him and headed in the direction Mistaro went, the way lit by torches. Finally, they came to where Mistaro had stopped and Legolas said, "Spread out and look around. Be aware and alert," knowing orcs could be anywhere.

Everyone nodded and began to search. Legolas stayed where he was, surveying the area. At least, that was what he told himself. In truth, he was blaming himself for not stopping Mistaro from leaving camp. If something had happened to his friend he would never forgive himself!

At that moment an elf called, "My lord Legolas, over here!" kneeling by a tree as he said this.

Legolas joined him quickly, followed by everyone else. Dread filled his heart when he saw what the elf had found: blood, a small pool of it. It was fresh and red, elf-blood.

Legolas said quietly, "This just happened. Look around!" he ordered suddenly, "Find a trail! We have to find him! Now!" leaping to his feet and surprising everyone.

They all nodded and immediately began to search. Legolas joined in as well, but it soon became clear that there was no trail to follow. Whoever had taken Mistaro had hidden too well, and Legolas knew that even though orcs were clumsy, other creatures of evil were not. They could have taken Mistaro anywhere.

Even his pack was gone.

Finally, as dawn began to lessen the shadows and lighten the sky, Legolas called off the search. They had to get back to the camp and keep moving. They had to get to safety.

Legolas was the last to leave the area, looking over his shoulder one last time before saying, "_Nai elen siluva lenna, __Mistaro__. Nai autuval séresse __an Aman_," before turning and departing.

Behind him, nothing stirred, the clearing as it had been and always would be until the Changing of the World.

* * *

The arrival back to camp was met with curiosity and fear. None knew why they had suddenly vanished and all were afraid they had been attacked and the Enemy was heading for them next.

'If only,' Legolas thought bleakly as he spied Mistaro's family, keeping to themselves and unaware of what had likely happened to their son, brother, and fiance.

Idril and Tuor were quick to send all the curious away so they could speak to Legolas in private. Once they were alone Idril asked, "What happened, Captain? You disappeared last night and we feared the worst."

"I'm afraid the worse did happen, my lady," Legolas replied sadly, "at least to Mistaro."

Idril froze in shock, while Tuor said, "Explain, captain."

Legolas sighed, "Mistaro came to me last night and asked to take a walk outside of camp, citing a need to be alone. He said he would only be fifteen minutes, but he was only gone ten when I sensed something was wrong. I gathered others to follow him, but when we got there we were too late. Mistaro was gone. The only sign was some blood on the ground," he looked at them miserably, "I am sorry my lord, my lady. I failed. I should not have let him go."

Idril shook her head, "No captain, you did not fail. You did your best, and none can fault you for that. You thought the area safe and clearly it was not, and we all know how deceitful the Enemy can be. I do not blame you."

"Neither do I," Tuor said, but then turned to look at Mistaro's family, "But we need to tell them what has happened. And then..." he shut his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again, "And then we must keep moving. We must reach the coast and not let the sacrifices of so many be in vain. Mistaro, _Aran_Turgon, Lord Glorfindel, Lord Ecthelion, and so many others died for us to have this chance. We cannot let it all be for naught if the Enemy comes for all of us."

"I will go and speak with them," Legolas said immediately, "This was my responsibility and my failure. I am the only one who can do this," looking at the two of them sadly.

Idril looked at him closely before slowly nodding her head, while Tuor only gripped his shoulder a moment before stepping away, giving Legolas a clear path to Mistaro's family.

Legolas took a deep breath and walked over to them slowly, well aware this would be the most painful thing for them all to hear. Mistaro had been a well-respected healer and a greater son, he would be missed by all that knew him and all healed by him.

Idril and Tuor watched as Legolas spoke to Mistaro's family, but looked away when Indilien collapsed to the ground with a cry of heart-wrenching agony. Laurorno did not look much better, face gray and still as he tried to comfort his wife. Quildolorë was holding Elmendië close as she cried, tears sliding down her own cheeks as well.

Legolas could only stand there, unable to do or say anything that would make up for the pain he had now caused such a close friend and his family. He had failed and he knew it.

Laurorno finally looked at him and nodded, and Legolas left, knowing there was nothing more for him to do or say.

And when the group set off once more, Legolas could only lead them on; even though he knew he was leaving a friend to the cruelties of Morgoth and his servants. It would be a decision he would regret for the rest of his days.

Behind them, eyes watched closely. Once they were out of sight the eyes disappeared, following them quietly and discreetly at a distance, making sure no harm came to them.

* * *

The first thing Mistaro became aware of was the pain in his head. It was a pounding throb in his right temple, and it seemed to grow worse with every passing moment. Mistaro stayed relaxed and still, knowing the pain would subside soon. It did, allowing Mistaro to notice other things. Like for one, he was bound hand and foot, the ropes around his wrists cruelly tight. Mistaro could feel blood dripping from the cuts the ropes left. He could also feel blood on his temple, already dry.

Realizing he was bound, and lying on the hard ground on his side, caused a flash of panic, and he struggled to stay still. If he was in an Enemy camp, he would need to learn as much as he could while they thought he was unconscious. It would make escaping later a bit easier.

How he would do that he was still working on.

Mistaro's hearing decided to work properly then, and he was able to hear clearly. Up until now, it sounded as though everything was coming from underwater, and he was glad to know that his concussion was not too severe. Instead of the raucous and loud bellows and curses of orcs, Mistaro heard the soft voices of Elves and the lilt of Sindarin. That caused a thrill of surprise. Were his captors' Elves? Why would they do such a thing?

Mistaro carefully opened his eyes to slits, looking around carefully. It was daytime, and the sun hurt his eyes briefly until they adjusted. Once they did, Mistaro looked around carefully, all while trying to feign unconsciousness.

Sure enough, he was in a camp of elves. They were sitting around a small fire, waiting for something. Horses stood nearby, grazing quietly. Mistaro lay against a tree, bound to its trunk, and he could sense it's distress. The tree knew he did not want to be there at all. In the trees surrounding them, Mistaro could sense more elves, alert for danger.

Mistaro turned his attention back to the elves surrounding the fire, trying to hear what they were saying. That was a mistake, as one of the elves looked up just then and made eye contact with him. The elf was surprised, while Mistaro opened his eyes all the way, knowing there was no point in trying to feign unconsciousness now. The rest of the elves around the fire turned to look at him, varying degrees of surprise in their eyes. They all said nothing, then two elves that had been hidden by others stood and walked over to where he lay.

The first elf was slightly shorter than the other and had hair as black as raven's wings. The other elf was red-haired and his face was slightly cruel, indicating he had seen much and done much. But that was not what frightened Mistaro for a brief moment before he decided he would not show fear to them or anyone else.

What frightened Mistaro was that the redhead's right arm ended in a stump instead of a hand.

He knew of only one elf like that: Maedhros, son of Fëanor. Which made the other elf Maglor.

He had been captured by Kinslayers!

* * *

Translations:

Nalyë vanima, nitya onorë - You are beautiful, little sister  
Nai elen siluva lenna, Mistaro. Nai autuval séresse an Aman - May a star shine on you, Mistaro. May you leave in peace for Aman  
Aran - King


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi everyone, here's chapter 2. I hope you're liking this story and will continue reading. It is a secondary project of mine right now, so updates might be few and far between, but please enjoy anyway! Please read, review and enjoy! See you next time!

* * *

Maedhros and Maglor stopped in front of him, just staring at him blankly. Mistaro returned the stare with a glare of defiance. He would not show fear in front of Kinslayers!

Moments later his resolve was put to the test when Maedhros actually _smiled_ at him, saying, "You can be afraid if you want to, it's allowed. Not like you're going anywhere anyways."

Mistaro said nothing and continued to glare at him. Maedhros shrugged and nodded over his shoulder. Two elves came then and dragged Mistaro upright until he was sitting up against the tree, then bound him to the trunk securely. The world spun and Mistaro had to close his eyes to fight off the dizziness and nausea. Once the spinning stopped he opened his eyes and looked up at the brothers again.

Only this time he spoke, "Why did you do this? What do you want with me?"

Maedhros smiled again, "Well, we happen to know who you are, Mistaro of the House of the Heavenly Arch. We also know you were the chief healer of Gondolin. We have been watching you for several days and have decided you are perfect for our needs. I was especially impressed with your ability to perform surgery out in the Wilds without proper facilities."

"And those needs would be what?" Mistaro asked carefully, not liking where this was going.

"We seem to find ourselves in need of a healer. All of ours have perished, and we know we will not last long without one," here Maedhros kneeled down to be at Mistaro's eye level, "That is where you come in."

Mistaro only stared at him incredulously before saying, "You want me to be your healer?!" Maedhros nodded seriously, and then Mistaro laughed, causing the elves around the fire to look at him in surprise and confusion, unable to remember any elf brave enough to laugh openly at Maedhros, "You want an elf you abducted, whose mother's kin were killed by you and your lot, to keep you alive and tend your wounds when you come back from another Kinslaying?" he looked closely at Maedhros, "You truly are insane. I will not help you."

Maedhros only said, "You have no choice, healer. You are oath-bound to heal the wounded and the sick. You cannot play favorites."

Mistaro shook his head in anger, "And how many did you slay before you crossed the Sea? How many from these very woods perished because of you? How many more will you kill? And you want me to help you?! You are dumber than you seem!"

Maedhros backhanded him then, and Mistaro tasted blood. He had bitten his tongue. Maedhros grabbed his chin and said quietly, but the anger was very real, "Be careful what you say, healer. I do not mind adding one more to the tally."

Mistaro's eyes widened a moment, then he smiled slightly, "And you prove why I will not serve you. You use fear to force loyalty, and all you will get in return is loathing. My loyalty is something that cannot be forced; it must be earned. I swore my loyalty to the House of Turgon, and nothing you say or do will change that."

Maedhros stared at him a long moment before slapping him again and walking away towards the fire. Maglor, who had been silent the entire time, turned to follow him but stopped when Mistaro said, "I never realized how much your brother thinks and speaks for you. Why don't you stop him?"

Maglor smiled sadly then, "The same reason you do not want to be our healer."

Mistaro only shook his head, "Loyalty and blind loyalty are two very different things. I would not have stood by my king as long as I did by being blindly loyal. I questioned his decisions and he welcomed those questions," he looked closely at Maglor, "Do you question your brother?"

Maglor turned away then, saying, "Do not antagonize him again. He will make things worse for you."

"Worse than being taken against my will? Away from my family and friends? Did you even stop to think about my family; my parents and sister? My _fiance_? My friend, who will blame himself for not making me stay in the camp? Did you think of any of them, or just yourself?!" Mistaro exclaimed, watching out of the corner of his eye at the other elves around the campfire. All looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Maglor only walked away to check on the horses and his brother who was there, leaving Mistaro alone. The elf near the fire closest to him said then, "Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor did send a group to make sure your people reached the coast safely. They have been ordered to keep any and all orcs away until they are safe," he looked at the healer then, "They have no desire to shed more blood."

"Maedhros already shed mine," Mistaro said in return, spitting out some blood before continuing, "And what happens if the Nauglamír turns up and is in the possession of Elves? Will they convince you to shed blood again? Will it be as worth it as the last two times? Will more children be abandoned to die?"

The elf glanced at him in surprise, "You know about the twins of Dior?"

"Of course I do," Mistaro said, "I also know that my mother's entire family was killed that day."

The elf only said, "Lord Maedhros searched for Eluréd and Elurín, for months, and found no sign. Those that left them were exiled."

"So one right corrects two wrongs?" Mistaro asked, "That does not make sense."

The elf turned back to the fire then, "No, it does not," and did not speak another word to Mistaro the rest of the day. No other spoke to him either, and Mistaro was left alone with his thoughts and concussion for the remainder of the day. When Maglor passed close by once Mistaro asked, "How long was I unconscious?"

Maglor only said, "Almost three days; we have not stopped moving towards home since."

"Your home, not mine," Mistaro said quietly as the elf walked away. Maglor tensed slightly, indicating he heard, but kept walking.

Mistaro leaned back against the tree then, asking for its help, asking it to tell him where he was. The tree did so, and Mistaro sighed. He would need a horse in order to get to the coast now. It was too dangerous to travel that distance on foot.

Now he only needed to figure out how to get away.

* * *

They stayed in that clearing another five days, waiting for something. In that time Mistaro's concussion cleared and he had been able to bind his wrists when they fed him. The bandages were a suitable barrier between his flesh and the rope. He could never escape then, he was always watched. And they never untied his feet unless they were letting him relieve himself, and even then they tied one of his wrists to one of theirs so he couldn't run away. Once he was finished they would always retie him to the tree, then ignore him the rest of the day. He barely slept those five days, unable to be comfortable sitting up against a tree and too stressed and grieved by recent events to find any rest.

Finally, on the sixth day, the alarm was sounded by a sentry, but it was soon followed by the call for friends approaching. Everyone relaxed from where they had been preparing to fight and returned to what they had been doing.

After a few minutes, a group of riders entered the clearing, no more than fifteen. The leader saluted Maedhros and Maglor then said, "My lords, the survivors of Gondolin have reached the coast safely. They were accepted into Sirion by the elves there and have settled in, as best as we can determine. We thought it unnecessary to follow them when they were met by a patrol from the Havens."

"Very good," Maedhros said, while Maglor added, "We will head for home now. Rest your horses and yourselves while we break camp."

"Yes, my lord," the elf replied and signaled his men away. They all left for what remained of the midday meal, and Mistaro could not help by feel dread.

There was relief that his family and friends were safe, but dread as he realized he was now completely alone with these elves. They were unpredictable and dangerous, and he had not even met Amras yet. Rumor was that he was worse than his brothers sometimes! At least they had some semblance of sanity!

Mistaro watched as the elves broke camp, guessing it would not take long. He was right; they were on their way inside of two hours. Mistaro suspected they only waited that long to let the horses the other party had ridden rest. They looked as though they had galloped all the way from the coast, or at least from where the patrol had met up with the survivors.

He was untied from the tree then and led to a horse, his legs shaking and numb from being unused for so long. They would not untie his hands; instead, they had the horse kneel, which she did. She looked at Mistaro in confusion, not understanding, and Mistaro returned the look with a miserable one of his own.

He did not understand these elves either.

A cuff to his ear had him whipping his head around to glare at that elf, who only said, "Time to go. Quit stalling."

Mistaro only shook his head and mounted. Once in the saddle, the mare stood carefully, making sure he would not fall off. He did not, but he needed a moment to get his feet in the stirrups and adjust his seat. The mare stayed still the entire time. Once he stopped moving the two elves left, with the one that had hit him muttering under his breath, "Blasted Gondolindrim."

That elf promptly got a bite for his troubles from the mare, with Mistaro saying, "What goes around comes around."

The elf glared at him, but only grabbed the mare's reins and led her to his own mount. He mounted and continued to lead the mare by the reins as they began the journey to Himring, Maglor and Maedhros in the lead. Neither looked back, but Mistaro did.

His destroyed home was behind him, and so was his family, and he did not know what would happen next.

All he could do was try and escape, if and when he could.

* * *

Escape proved harder than he thought. These elves were too cautious, keeping him in the center of the group, and they never spoke to him at all. They journeyed mostly in silence, heading northeast, constantly watching and listening for danger. His hands were seldom untied and they were constantly numb.

Finally, after almost two weeks something changed, just not for the better.

One morning, after they were mounted Maedhros rode over to him and said, "We will be in Himring in two days, perhaps three."

"My heart explodes with joy," Mistaro said sarcastically.

Maedhros acted as though he did not understand it was a joke, or maybe he just did not care. In either case, he ignored the comment, while a few elves around them were quickly hiding smiles. Even Maglor looked as though he was barely suppressing a smile.

"Since we would not want you getting away, or possibly getting hurt yourself in the attempt, or even worst, lost, we thought we would take a precaution," Maedhros continued, nodding at the elf behind Mistaro, "This is just to make sure you cannot find your way out of the keep or the myriad of trails surrounding the keep. They are usually used to confuse orcs, but they should confuse you as well."

Mistaro did not understand right away but did ten seconds later as the world went dark. They were trying to blindfold him!

He struggled as much as he could, the blindfold slipping as it was not tied on yet, but then another elf came and grabbed his chin, forcing his head into an awkward angle. He was too strong for Mistaro and the blindfold was finally tied around his eyes, cutting off all sight.

Once he was released he said, "So much for the supposed trust of elves. They do not even trust one of their own."

That earned him another smack from Maedhros, who said, "Mind your tongue, healer."

Mistaro only said, "That won't be a problem," spitting out some blood, as he had bitten his tongue again, "You seem intent on making sure I bite it off."

Maedhros probably glared at him then but said nothing else as he moved to the front of the group. Mistaro tracked his movement with his hearing, spitting out more blood as they started on their way once more.

'Could this get any worse?' Mistaro asked himself as he was hit in the head by a low-hanging branch. The mare looked over her shoulder then, saw him hurt, and promptly bit the elf leading her again. He did nothing other than glare at her and continue on, while the mare made an effort to weave around low-hanging branches that could hit her rider.

She was fairly successful, as Mistaro was only hit one more time the entire three days the blindfold was there. They did not even take it off at night. They kept riding, day and night, taking many confusing paths until they reaching Himring. When they finally arrived at the keep Mistaro heard only the sound of wooden doors being opened before they went through them into the courtyard. Only then, when the gates were shut, was the blindfold removed.

Mistaro opened his eyes carefully, slightly grateful the sun was setting. He looked around, taking in the high walls and guards posted at regular intervals atop the wall. His heart sank.

There would be no escape from here.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi everyone! Here's chapter 3, and I have no idea when the next chapter is coming. But...please read, review, and enjoy until then. See you next time!

* * *

Mistaro watched as an elf left the keep and made his way to Maglor and Maedhros, who had already dismounted, along with the rest of the group. Mistaro was the only one still mounted, knowing his legs would give out if he tried to put weight on them. His body was starting to crash now, and he did not want to be standing when it finally happened.

'That must be Amras,' he thought, watching as the three brothers reunited. They spoke briefly, with Amras glancing at him at one point.

Mistaro saw that quite a few were looking at him as well. The citizens of the keep, the women and few children and craftspeople, were looking at him with something that might be called hope. It was clear they had been told they would be getting a new healer, even if he was unwilling.

A very pregnant she-elf was looking at him with almost desperate hope, and he turned away from her, missing the sadness in her eyes at the sight of his bound wrists. She may have needed a healer, but she had not wanted one that was here against his will. She could tell he had no intention of staying and helping anyone, even though she had a feeling his oath would compel him to stay somewhat and he had no way to escape on his own.

"So...this is the best healer in Gondolin," a voice near him said, and he turned and looked down at Amras. The elf looked at him carefully, taking in his disheveled appearance and the exhaustion he could not hide. He was crashing soon, and Mistaro was worried about what they would do then.

He hoped they would not leave him in some dank cell. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was being away from the stars and the moon.

Until then, he could not hide his fatigue. It had been a long time, since the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, since he had ridden a horse for so long without stopping, and even then they had stopped so that he could check on the wounded. In addition to his fatigue, he was feeling the grief and pain of watching his home and House be destroyed and his king and friend slain. The death of Glorfindel and the forced separation from his family was becoming more than he could take.

Amras shrugged then, "I hope you chose well, brothers, or you might have to go back to Gondolin and find another healer," laughing at his own joke while Mistaro glared at him.

"Gondolin is destroyed, Amras, and he is the chief healer of the city. It is a miracle he survived the destruction, and his skills will serve us well," Maglor said quietly, and Amras immediately quieted. He looked at his brother closely, saw the truth in his eyes, then turned back to Mistaro. He did not look particularly sorrowful, and Mistaro could tell sanity was likely lost on this one.

"What is your name?" Amras asked.

Mistaro did not answer, his exhaustion warring with his defiance. If he did not rest soon he would collapse. There was only so much he could take after all.

Amras's gaze hardened, but before he could do or say anything the stablemaster appeared, looking for the mare Mistaro was riding. The other horses were already being tended, and he needed to check on this one and get her tended. When he saw the mare he said, "Her hooves look better. That new potion I worked out is doing her some good and keeping her from becoming lame," he turned to Maglor, "I still need to see how she is doing, and if her hooves have any new problems," there was a hint there that Maglor understood easily.

He nodded and signaled two elves standing nearby. They came and pulled Mistaro from the horse, and that was when the world spun and Mistaro went limp, his body finally crashing under the weight of his emotions and physical weariness. His legs collapsed as they were forced to bear his weight and could not.

He crashed onto his knees, and the two elves had to drag him to his feet, which still buckled under his weight, refusing to support him. Amras made a sound of disapproval while Maedhros walked away. Maglor stayed long enough to say, "Put him in the chamber we prepared before we left. Leave him alone, he will be taken care of later," taking in Mistaro's limp head that he was too tired and weak to raise and how he could not stand. This elf was exhausted in more ways than one, and he would not be able to do anything for several days until his strength returned.

The two elves holding Mistaro nodded and began dragging him towards the keep, the mare watching until they were out of sight. Only then did she follow the stablemaster, content that she had at least tried her best to help her new friend.

The stablemaster only looked at her strangely, he had never been able to and he doubted he ever would understand this mare; she was too odd even for an elven horse.

* * *

The two elves were none-too-gentle as they dragged Mistaro down several hallways and up a flight of stairs. Mistaro tried to walk, but they moved too quickly and he was too exhausted.

The stress of the last month had finally caught up to him and he was crashing from the combination of stress, grief, fear, and exhaustion.

Finally, they stopped at a single door, which they unlocked before dragging him inside. They cut the ropes around his wrists, but immediately something hard and cold snapped around his right wrist. He was dragged a little farther and he could vaguely hear the clink of chains. He was laid on something soft and warm and immediately passed out.

* * *

Maglor and Maedhros met later in the night after Mistaro was taken away, sharing a bottle of wine in Maglor's study.

"He is too rebellious," Maedhros said, "He will not obey us, and if he does it will be because his life, or someone else's, is being threatened."

Maglor only said, "We took him against his will, brother. Did you expect him to be willing?"

"I did not expect him to have such a mouth," Maedhros muttered, "Turgon and Fingolfin never mentioned it when they sang his praises after battles."

"Most likely they liked that he had an opinion, and was not shy about sharing it," Maglor said in amusement.

"Maybe, but he still needs to come around. He is not leaving here, no matter what. We need his skills," Maedhros said bluntly.

"As you say, brother, but let Maeassil talk to him first. She will likely be the only one to treat him with kindness here for a long while," Maglor said, turning back to watching the stars and enjoying his wine.

Maedhros nodded silently and turned back to enjoying his wine as well.

* * *

Maeassil, the head cook of Himring, made her way to the chambers where they had put the healer from Gondolin. She had a basin of water and some towels, as well as a comb and a pot of herbal tea. She also had some fresh bandages and some new clothes in a woven bag looped over her shoulder.

While her face was serene, Maeassil was troubled. Kidnapping an elven healer was a low point even for her lords, but she understood their desperation. Her meager skills were not enough. It did not make what they did acceptable by any stretch of the imagination though.

She had reached the chamber by now, and the guard immediately unlocked the door and let her in. She nodded coolly and entered, the door swinging shut behind her. She looked at the elf lying on the large, four-poster bed, seeing his eyes shut with exhaustion. His left arm lay over his stomach, and his right hung off the bed, a manacle around it. Both wrists were bloody under the dirty bandages he must have applied himself from the ropes that had tied them for so long.

Maeassil shook her head then, she would have to speak to Maedhros about this, but right now she knew she would not be getting a clean shirt on him tonight without the guard's help. He would have to remove the chain for a few minutes.

The elf shifted slightly, and Maeassil quickly placed her things on the nearby table before walking over to the bed. She leaned over and stroked his hair, trying to wake him up. He opened his eyes slightly, but they closed almost immediately and he fell asleep again.

He was worn out.

Maeassil nodded to herself then, she would have an easier time now. She straightened and retrieved a cup of tea, placing it on the bedside table for a moment. She then slid an arm under the elf's shoulders and easily raised him to a sitting position. His head lolled limply until she rested it against her upper arm. Then she began coaxing the tea into his mouth, as he had woken slightly with the movement.

"Come now, child, there you go," she said soothingly as his eyes moved around, bone-deep exhaustion visible and clearly not aware of anything, "This will help you sleep and calm your body and mind. Just open your mouth a bit more...there you go," as the elf drank the tea she gave him, eyes half-closed and exhausted.

"That's it...all of it now...all done," she said quietly as she took the cup away and placed it back on the bedside table. She gently massaged his jaw and cheek, and he relaxed and fell asleep again, unable to resist the pull of sleep. The sleeping herbs she had added to his tea would keep him asleep the rest of the night and well into the day, providing a deep, restful sleep that would break when the body was fully rested and not before.

Once certain he was asleep once more, Maeassil lay him down and went into the bathing chamber to draw a bath. The small basin she had brought would not be enough for the mud and soot caked to almost every inch of him. It was clear he had survived quite a lot before he had been grabbed by her lords.

As soon as the bath was filled and the water warm, Maeassil went and got the guard. He removed the manacle and helped carry the elf, as the elf was taller than Maeassil, to the bathing chamber before leaving to stand outside the bathing room door. He would be nearby to help, but would not help bathe the elf. That was not part of his instructions.

Once he had left Maeassil began her work. She stripped the elf of his clothing, wincing as she saw the minor burns and bruises his clothing had hidden. He clearly had survived either a building collapsing on him or a fight.

Or both.

She quickly got him into the water, washing off the sweat, soot, and grime. Blood came off as well, but Maeassil could see that most of it was not his. Some came from the wound on his head, but other than that he did not have any open wounds. His face she washed next, cleaning and revealing a face fairer than she expected, and slightly exotic. His hair was teak-colored from what she could see under the mud and the glimpses of his eyes that she had seen showed a deeper blue than she expected.

This elf was not fully Noldorin, and Maeassil knew instantly that this elf would need to be near trees and nature to accept life in the keep, as he would not survive long in a stone fortress. It was not in his nature to be trapped inside.

Tucking that bit of information away for later to let Maedhros and Maglor know, Maeassil gently washed and combed the elf's hair, removing sweat, mud, and twigs as she did so. She untangled the mats formed by braids that had been ignored for too long and combed his hair until it was smooth and neat. Only then did she lift him from the now mud-colored water, placing him on the rug nearby. The task of lifting him in and out of the water was easier for her than carrying him anywhere, hence the need for the guard.

She proceeded to towel him dry before dressing him in comfortable sleeping clothes. His hair she wrung out and dried before braiding it in a single plait.

Finished and satisfied with her work she left the room briefly, coming back with bandages. She bound his raw wrists gently and checked the head wound, but decided that it was not serious enough to bind. The elf was a healer and had wrapped his wrists but not his head, he must have decided the wound was not that serious.

Finally finished, Maeassil went and had the guard collect the elf while she arranged the pillows and pulled back the blankets and sheets. The guard arrived then with the elf and lay him in the bed, snapping the manacle around his right wrist before Maeassil could stop him.

He only said, "Lord Maedhros' orders," before shrugging and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Maeassil shook her head, she would have to speak to Maedhros later. There was no way this elf could escape the keep, there was no need to imprison him in such a way. Until then she would stay with the elf until he woke.

He would undoubtedly have a lot of questions.

She turned back to him, pulling the blankets and sheets over him and tucking him in, making sure the blankets were snug.

Someone from the kitchens had come while she was bathing the elf and left dinner for her and some broth for him as she had instructed, but Maeassil decided to wait to feed him. She would let him rest undisturbed for a few hours before she tried to feed him.

He had been through enough for now.

Maeassil collected her dinner and a chair, bringing both over to the bedside so that she could keep an eye on the elf. She watched him as she ate, watched as he unconsciously snuggled deeper into the blankets and turned partially onto his side. She smiled then, he reminded her of her son a little, and her husband.

A tear slid down her cheek then, and she hurried to wipe it away. Thinking of her long-dead husband and son was never a good idea, nor did it ever help her.

She turned back to the elf and lifted her hand, running it gently along his cheek, wishing her son was here unconsciously. Her son would have like this elf, and her husband would have liked him for his bravery.

Not many would dare to laugh in the face of Maedhros.

She lowered her hand then and returned to her meal, her hand unconsciously going to her mangled leg. The pain was gone, but the limp remained. She would never run again, but she was glad she still lived. She just never could leave the keep, she knew she would not survive long without help.

She sighed then, looking at the elf's sleeping face as she said, "It seems we are both prisoners here. Only...I could leave if I had a death wish. Would you leave because you want your freedom, even if leaving meant your death?"

The elf did not answer and continued to sleep, and Maeassil turned back to her meal. This elf's company, or lack thereof, was better than no company, which was what she usually got when she ate. Not many liked to eat with her, not wanting to insult her cooking and unable to stand her barbed tongue. Maeassil had no problem sharing her opinion about everything.

She ate the rest of her meal in silence, the elf not once waking the rest of the night. She stayed, not having anywhere else to be or wanting to be anywhere else.

* * *

Mistaro finally started to wake when the sun made it's way past his closed eyes. He twitched and burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, wanting to sleep longer.

He was not needed in the healing wing today and wanted to enjoy his day off. He would sleep in and then help Quildolorë with whatever she needed for their wedding. She wanted it during the Gates of Summer, and the king had agreed that would be a perfect time.

Thinking, even drowsily, about the Gates of Summer seemed to be what was needed to unlock recent memories, and like a waterfall they hit him.

The destruction of his home...the flight through the tunnel...the death of Glorfindel...all of what he had hoped to be a nightmare was real, it had really happened.

He opened his eyes then, hoping the rest of what he remembered had been a nightmare and he was with his family and fiance in Sirion.

There was no such luck, he realized as his eyes alighted on a banner with the symbol of the House of Fëanor on it hanging on a wall. He looked around then without moving his head, taking in the stone walls and balcony and windows, the tables, chairs, and bookshelves, the hearth and rugs. He was lying in a large, four-poster bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin, and he was surprisingly comfortable.

Even more surprising, he was clean. His last memories were hazy at best, but he knew he had not bathed before he passed out. Someone must have bathed him and put him to bed, although he could not remember any of it. He must have slept deeply through the entire thing.

He shifted slightly, and that was when he felt something hard around his wrist. It was a manacle, he realized as he felt it with his other hand, seeing the chain it was attached to set into the wall. There was no way he could remove it or the manacle. Lock-picking was a skill he had never possessed, and Glorfindel had never gotten around to teaching him like he said would.

He was truly a prisoner, far from what had been home and all that was dear and familiar to him, a tear sliding down his cheek. He had not had a moment to understand all that had happened, and now that he did it felt as though everything was hitting him all at once.

That tear was joined by more, and he silently cried for a long while; crying for the friends and kin he had lost, the separation from his family and how terrified they must be for him, and finally, he cried for himself and how he would never get away from here or hear the song of the trees again. His father had kept and raised many trees around his home for his wife and his children, recognizing their Silvan heritage needed nature to thrive.

Here he could hear no trees, no life beyond that of horses and elves, and it hurt him. He wanted to be near nature, he needed to like another needed water to live, and here all he saw was cold stone. There was no life in this room beyond him.

How could elves live like this? Cut away from nature?

Finally, exhausted from his tears, Mistaro fell asleep again, unaware there had been a witness to his pain.

* * *

Maeassil had watched silently as the elf cried, knowing he needed to. He needed that release, but she was troubled at how hurt the elf seemed. It was clear the trauma of his home being destroyed would not leave him for a very long time.

She came then with a washcloth and a basin of water, gently washing the tears from his face and tucking the blankets closely around him. She went and heated the broth, gently coaxing it into his mouth before settling down at his bedside, waiting for him to wake again.

* * *

The sun had set when Mistaro roused himself again. Only this time his mind was clearer and the grief not as near as before. He opened his eyes, taking in the stars just visible and the moonlight before looking at the she-elf reading a book in the chair next to his bed.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were ice blue when she lowered the book to look at him, but they were warm. She smiled slightly and said, "Hello, you seem better rested than before," she reached out and felt his forehead, "And that slight fever you had has let go of you. How do you feel?"

"Wha –," he was cut off by a hacking cough, his throat very dry. The she-elf was quick to get him some water, and after he had drunk his fill he tried to sit up, only to be pressed down by the she-elf, who said, "No, do not do that just yet. You do not have the strength."

She was right; Mistaro was trembling slightly just from the effort of trying to sit up. He lay back, but asked, "What fever?"

The she-elf smiled, "You were exhausted when you arrived and your body crashed as a result. The fever was a result of the exhaustion and everything else that has happened to you, that is why you still feel cold," tucking the blanket up closer to him, as Mistaro was shivering slightly. She smiled as it eased slightly, and he relaxed a little.

A moment later he asked, "Who are you? How long have I been asleep?"

"My name is Maeassil," she said, "I am the head cook here in Himring."

The elf shut his eyes tightly as he said, "I was hoping it was all a nightmare."

Maeassil smiled at that, then said, "You have been asleep for almost five days. Your body was worn out, and so was your mind. Both needed to shut down for a time. You woke briefly yesterday, but I don't think you remember that," seeing his frown of confusion, "I have been tending you."

The elf looked at her then and said, "I suppose I should thank you," to which Maeassil replied, "There is no need, I only did what needed to be done."

Seeing his fatigue come back and how he tried to hide it she rose and walked over to the tea she had prepared. She did not see the need to tell him she had been dosing him with sleeping herbs so that he would not be aware of the precautions being put in place by her lords so that he could not escape. It was highly likely he would not take that very well.

She returned to his side with the cup and saw that he had dozed off slightly. She shook his shoulder gently and he woke up and tried to be alert. Maeassil smiled as she said, "Drink this, it will settle your stomach and calm your mind."

Maeassil had a feeling that if he had been more aware he would not have drunk it because he would have smelled what was in it, but she could tell he trusted her more than anyone else in the keep right now. He drank it quietly and settled against the pillow with a sigh then asked, "What happens now?" looking at her.

Maeassil smiled gently, "Now you let the sleeping herbs you just swallowed do their work, and get some rest," her smile widening when she saw the elf try to speak, but he could not get his mouth or muscles to obey. His mouth was slack and his eyes half-closed.

Those herbs worked incredibly quickly, and Maeassil stroked his forehead before gently closing his slack mouth and stroking his forehead gently. She then laid a hand over his eyes, forcing them closed.

"Sleep, child," she whispered, "Sleep and recover your strength."

His breathing slowed and deepened, and in moments he was asleep. Maeassil removed her hand, nodding to herself when she saw his closed eyes and the deep breathing. Drugging him was the right choice at the moment, he desperately needed rest before he could do anything. Maeassil knew that an exhausted healer tended to make more mistakes than a rested one, and she had every intention of making sure he did what was expected of him as well as he could.

Their needs were too dire for any mistakes on his part.

Maeassil watched him sleep a while longer before gently coaxing some more broth into him and then she left the room, the guard locking the door behind her. She did not understand why, the sleeping herbs he had ingested would keep him asleep well into tomorrow, which would give her a chance to rest and change her dress. She would also get something to eat before she sought out Maglor and Maedhros.

There were things they needed to clarify for her, and she rather do it now while the elf was asleep. She wanted all the facts about him before he truly started asking questions.

Behind her, in the room, Mistaro slept on, unaware his fate was about to be decided by those who were none too keen about having a healer with so much attitude and such a mouth.

Hopefully, they were desperate enough for his skills and would overlook his mouth and attitude towards them.

* * *

The next day saw Maeassil meeting with her lords. Amras had been excluded from the meeting, as he often was, because his opinion was usually unwelcome and unhelpful. She had checked in briefly on the healer and found him still deeply asleep, giving her the assurance that at least he was resting comfortably.

She knocked on the door to Maglor's study, and after being bidden to enter, went in and sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk. Maedhros sat next to her in another chair and Maglor sat behind the desk.

"_Ahhh..._Maeassil, I am glad you are here," Maglor said with a smile, "How is he?"

"Still resting when I just checked on him, my lord," Maeassil said promptly, "I do not think he has slept properly since the destruction of his home. He woke last night and was lucid, and once more before that. That first time he could not stop his emotions and grief from coming to the fore, and I did not stop him," she looked carefully at Maglor then, "He may be the best healer in Gondolin, but I would wager he has some Sindar, or perhaps Silvan, blood. He will not do well here."

"We do not have time to plant trees and flowers for him," Maedhros said coldly, "He will have to get used to things as they are. We cannot curry to only his needs, we have to think of everyone in the keep."

"And if he Fades away and dies because his bond with nature has been severed?" Maeassil asked, "What then, my lord? What are the odds of finding another healer of his caliber? Especially in times such as these? You took him on the road, you may not get another opportunity like that again. If you want him to live and serve as a healer here, my lord, you will have to bend to him. It is the only way."

Maedhros grumbled under his breath, while Maglor said, "That is a good point, Maeassil. We will see what we can do to help him feel comfortable here."

"One way to do that is to remove the chain, my lord," Maeassil said. Maedhros looked ready to say something, but Maeassil continued on, "He likely knows he cannot escape from here, why restrain him in such a way? It will not convince him we have any honor left or know right from wrong," she looked pleadingly at Maglor, "We need to trust him enough not to run away, but we also need to give him some freedom. He knows he cannot escape, let him explore a bit and find his way here. Who knows? Doing so may convince him to stay, if not for nothing other than his own safety."

"Maybe you are right," Maglor said, "We will think about, but for now he does not go anywhere un-escorted by guards. I do not want to take any chances we could lose him. He is too valuable an asset to the keep. We," nodding at his brother, "will discuss the chains later."

Maeassil knew that was the best she was going to get, and so asked, "He has been asleep for a while now, I have not had a chance to ask him his name. What is it?"

Maedhros said, "Mistaro, son of Laurorno, of the House of the Heavenly Arch of Gondolin. I hope he does not live up to his name," he added with a scowl.

Maeassil smiled slightly, "'Wanderer'? That is an interesting name, but it fits if he has Silvan blood, they are a free-spirited people."

"He cannot go by that name here," Maedhros said suddenly, "If people come to the keep and learn his name they will know that he was of Gondolin and is here against his will," he looked at his brother, "He will need a different name."

Maeassil raised an eyebrow, "You want to give him a different name? This is an elf, not a dog. His parents have already named him, he will not accept another name."

"He will if we say he will not get privileges like going outside if he does not take a new name," Maedhros said bluntly, refusing to move on this issue.

Maeassil looked to Maglor and found no support there, and she saw that this was a losing fight. She could not hope to convince the brothers otherwise.

"What will he be called?" she asked.

"_Múldir_," Maedhros said promptly, revealing he had thought of this already, "It will be a reminder to keep his tongue in check."

Maeassil stood then, "I should go, and see if he is awake. If he is, I will see about getting him out of bed and walking a bit. It will help him regain his strength more quickly."

The two brothers nodded as she bowed slightly and left, not saying anything for several long minutes before Maedhros said, "We are not planting trees inside the keep."

"Why not?" Maglor asked, "It will make the place seem more alive, and it will give the children something to do."

"It is a bad idea," Maedhros grumbled.

"Well then...I guess it is a good thing you are responsible, along with Amras, for the keep's defenses. I am in charge of the day-to-day, and I do not see what harm trees can cause. And if it helps our new healer, why not?" Maglor asked.

Maedhros had no answer, and Maglor moved on to other issues that they both needed to address about the running of the keep. Their new healer was not brought up at all for the rest of the day.

* * *

Maeassil returned to the healer's chambers with two plates of food and some water to drink. The guard promptly let her in and shut the door, and Maeassil turned away for a moment to give him some instructions for new clothes for the healer. When she turned back, she was greeted by the sight of an empty bed.

Panic set in for a moment, and she rounded the bed quickly. She relaxed instantly: the healer was sitting on the ground next to the bed, arms on his knees and chin on his arms, looking out the balcony. He did not look at her and only said, "You drugged me," it was a statement, not a question.

Seeing that lying was not an option, Maeassil said, "Yes, I did. You needed to rest and regain your strength. And it seems like it did you some good. Now, come and eat with me," placing the plates on the table.

The elf raised an eyebrow and did not move, "You drug me, then expect me to eat with you? How stupid do you believe me to be?"

"Considering you are a healer, I consider you to be very smart," Maeassil said as she sat down, "And you are hungry, I can tell. Come and eat, it will restore your energy."

The elf made no move for a long moment, and just when she was about to actually order him, he sighed and stood up, walking over to the table and sitting down, the chain dragging along the floor and making a clinking, swishing sound on the stone floor.

They began to eat, in silence, until the elf said, "You spoke to Maglor and Maedhros, correct?"

Maeassil looked at him sharply, and he shrugged, "Amras came after I woke up and said the three of you were deciding my fate. He also taunted me about never leaving this place," he looked at her then, "What is my fate? What do they have in store for me?"

"They want you to be our healer," Maeassil said simply.

"And a prisoner," he said bluntly, pulling at the chain slightly. There was enough play for him to get to the bathing chamber and that table, but that was it. He had no freedom, "Did they tell you they did not ask? That they knocked me unconscious and took me away from what remained of my friends and kin?" he leaned close then, "Did they tell you they took me away from my parents and ten-year-old sister? And my fiance? Did they tell you that?"

Maeassil looked at him, "No, they did not. But it would not have changed anything to them. They needed a healer, they found a healer, they got a healer. That is all that matters."

"So it does not matter that they took me, without my permission, and have decided to keep me against my will?" he snapped, "I would have thought that after what happened to him Maedhros would know elves don't do well in chains."

Maeassil almost slapped him for being so insolent but stopped herself. Instead, she said, "I am working to convince him to get rid of the chains, and the guards that would have followed you when the chains are gone. I have told him you know you cannot escape from here, and that you will not try," she looked into his deep blue eyes, "You know you cannot escape, right?"

"I figured it out," he said sarcastically, "The high walls and armed guards were a pretty clear hint."

Maeassil had nothing to say to that and asked instead, "You are part Sindar, correct?"

He looked at her strangely before saying, "Half Silvan, my father is Noldor. Why?"

Maeassil nodded, "That is what I thought. I convinced Maglor to plant trees inside the keep. He is in charge of the day-to-day running of the keep and thought it was a good idea. He wants you comfortable here."

"In other words, he does not want me to Fade," Mistaro said bluntly, "You know I cannot survive very well without a connection to nature, so you are taking away that avenue of escape," he looked at her closely then, "How right am I?"

Maeassil narrowed her eyes, "You certainly are much smarter than you let on."

"Don't try and flatter me," he said coldly, "I have no interest in any of this. My home was destroyed, my king slain in front of me, my House massacred almost to the last elf. I was glad to survive, almost, because it meant I could ply my trade still, but I wanted it to be a place of my choosing," he leaned in, "I _do not_ choose here."

"That may be so," Maeassil said, "But you have no choice. You are a healer and needed here, and here you will stay. There is no negotiation to be had."

Mistaro stared at her a moment, then stood from the table and walked towards the balcony. The chain stopped him, but still, he strained against it, and Maeassil was treated to the sight of an imprisoned elf straining for freedom that was just out of reach. After a few minutes of this, he stopped and said, "You are worse than them. At least they did not try and convince me they had good intentions," he turned to her, "You pretend to care about me, but if you did you would convince your lords to release me fully. You would convince them to let me leave and find my way to the coast, where my family is, but instead, you think of your own interests. You do not consider me anything more than a tool, to be put away with when you are finished with it, only to be brought out again as necessary," he yanked on the chain then but it did not give, then sat down at the table again, but did not eat.

He only sat there, waiting for her response.

It came soon enough, "I am still your friend here, likely the only one you'll have with that attitude and that mouth, so get used to it. I report to my lords about you, and depending on your behavior, you will get things you may want. If you do as you're told you will not be punished. You are smart, you know that my lords will punish you in the worst way possible if you disobey. Just follow your oath, and you will be fine."

Mistaro seemed to grow angry at her words, but Maeassil was not finished, "My lords want you to take a new name, I could not convince them otherwise. It will be Múldir, and whether or not you accept it determines whether or not you go outside or have any freedom or liberty."

"'Slave'?" Mistaro asked, then said coldly, "How fitting. I have even less freedom than Maedhros did chained to that wall."

"At least you have freedom," she snapped back, not appreciating his words in regards to her lord. He likely was not even born when Maedhros had been chained to the cliff wall.

"Not to do what I want or go where I want, or be who I am," Mistaro said, "My parents waited to name me because they wanted to understand me. They named me Wanderer because I go my own way, and follow my own path. My father wanted me to be a warrior, I became a healer. My mother wanted me to marry inside my House, I fell in love with one of the House of the Golden Flower. My mother did not want me riding to war, I did, as a healer," he leaned closer, "I follow a path that wanders and twists, whose end I cannot see, that leads me to many different places. But that path is partially determined by loyalty. I have no loyalty to you or your lords, so my path does not end here. It pauses here, but it does not end here. This fortress will not stand much longer, and soon I will be back with my kin," and there was certainty in his gaze, leaving Maeassil wondering if he had some version of the Gift of Foresight.

It would explain a lot.

"You say your mother was Silvan," she said, changing the topic, "Who were her parents?"

He smiled then, "Her mother was a Silvan, but her father was rumored to be a Maiar, although that was never proved. He was a wise and powerful Silvan lord in any respect. Both died in Menegroth, at your lord's hands most likely, so what does it matter?"

"You have the Gift of Foresight," she said simply.

"No, I don't," he said bluntly, "I am just able to guess what will happen; this fortress is too close to Angband, and soon Morgoth will turn his gaze here and it will fall. Then I will be home with my family again, and nothing you say will change my mind on that."

"If you believe so," Maeassil said, then asked, "Will you accept the name, or not?"

He stared at her a long moment before asking, "Do I have a choice?"

"No."

* * *

Translations:

Múldir (Slave)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi everyone! Here's chapter 4, and I have no idea when chapter 5 is coming. Enjoy until then! Oh, by the way, I might change the names of things now and then, since I need to change some things to fit what I am writing about. I will still try to keep to the facts as much as possible. I just thought I should let you all know!

* * *

Maeassil and Mistaro, now called Múldir, finished eating in silence, then Maeassil stood and said, "I have arranged new clothes for you, the ones you arrived in are being mended."

Instead of sarcasm, as she would have expected, he only nodded. She continued, "I will have the guard remove the chain so that you can bathe and dress. This chamber belonged to our previous healer, the books should catch your interest," nodding at the bookshelf.

This time he did respond, "They are only interesting if you can reach them."

"I will fix that as soon as I can," she said. Looking at his plate she asked, "Are you finished?" he did not respond or look up, so she tried again, "Múldir? Are you finished?"

He still did not look up but did say, "If you are truly set on being my friend, do not call me that when we are alone. I do not want to forget my real name."

Maeassil hesitated, then nodded slowly, before taking his plate and leaving the room. The guard came in as she left, walking over and removing the manacle, forcing him up and giving him a shove towards the bathing chamber. Mistaro only raised an eyebrow and disappeared into the bathing chamber, coming out almost an hour later. He had bathed and washed his hair, braiding it in a style common in Gondolin. Maeassil had left clothes for him while he was bathing, and he dressed quickly.

The guard, who had been waiting in the hall came back in after he dressed and tried to put the manacle on, but Mistaro went to the bookshelf before he could. He looked over the titles before selecting a few that caught his interest. He took them to the table and the guard chained him to the wall again. The guard left again, leaving Mistaro alone.

Mistaro was glad he was alone, finally. He had not been alone since this whole nightmare began, and he needed some time to himself before he did anything else. It was a lot to take in, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be. He did not want to stay here, but he knew he had no choice. There was no way he could escape, looking down at the cold metal around his wrist. They were taking no chances that he would get away.

Mistaro signed then, wishing he knew what was happening to his family. There was no way to know; the Fëanorians communicated with no one, not for any reason. They were completely cut off from all other elves.

There was no way to let his family know that he was at least alive. He wasn't really sure if he was what he would call safe.

Voices outside, in the hall, drew his attention, and he looked up as the door opened and several elves walked in. All were armed, and looking around Mistaro could not see Maeassil. As much as he was loathed to admit it, she was the only one here likely to help in any situation he found himself in here.

Two elves came forward and unchained him, taking him by the arms and leading him out of the room. He went willingly, carefully memorizing the many different passageways and stairs they took to get downstairs to the first level. Once there they led him to what he assumed was the healing wing. It was hard to tell as it was hidden by two double doors.

Several elves were outside the doors already, waiting anxiously. One of them, a she-elf, sighed in relief when she saw Mistaro, while the others only seemed like they wished they had another choice in the matter.

What the matter was became clear when there was a cry of pain from beyond the doors, and Mistaro guessed it was a she-elf in extreme pain.

One of the elves, after hearing the cry, turned to Mistaro and walked over to him. The guards had stepped aside and to the hall entrance, leaving Mistaro free to roam the hall but not truly go anywhere. The elf grabbed him by the shirt collar, putting his face inches away from Mistaro's. He said, "If either of them dies, you will die next, healer."

Mistaro raised an eyebrow, then grabbed the wrist holding his shirt. The elf only registered a moment of surprise before he was slammed against the wall, his arm twisted painfully behind him. Everyone else was similarly surprised. Apparently, this healer knew how to defend himself.

Mistaro, gripping the arm tightly, only said, "I may be a healer now, but I was trained to be a warrior as well. Just because I choose not to fight does not mean I cannot," releasing the elf as he said this.

The elf stepped away, carefully flexing his arm before trying to punch Mistaro. The healer dodged effortlessly and grabbed the elf's shirt, using his own momentum to slam him down to the ground. It would have escalated further, but a cry of pain caught Mistaro's attention and he looked up. He looked down at the elf he was crouched over a moment later, then stood up. He walked into the healing wing and shut the door, leaving the elves there to try and understand what just happened.

One of them got the elf Mistaro had dropped off the ground, saying, "It seems Lord Maedhros found a healer that can fight back. I guess we will have to be careful not to antagonize him. He certainly gave you a run for your pride, my son," turning to the elf.

The elf shook his head, "As long as he saves them," turning to the door, waiting anxiously.

* * *

When Mistaro entered the healing wing he immediately went to where Maeassil was: sitting next to a bed occupied by the she-elf he vaguely remembered from earlier. She was crying out and panting, trying to keep the pain under control.

Maeassil looked at him when he entered, then turned back to the she-elf, "A healer is here, Colinde. Just do what he says, okay?"

The she-elf, Colinde, nodded as best she could, and Mistaro gently rested a hand on her stomach, reaching out with his senses. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and walked away, going to a nearby herb table to see what was available.

_Not much_, he realized as he took in the herbs before him and out in the small garden outside.

'What kind of useless herbs did their healers use?' he thought before going back to the bed after collecting some clean towels and some water. He only said to Maeassil, "She has better chances delivering in Angband."

Colinde was too focused on her body to hear, while Maeassil glanced at him sharply but said nothing. He said nothing to her and turned his attention to Colinde, "Colinde, I want you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that?"

Colinde nodded shakily, and Mistaro smiled slightly, "Good, now push when I tell you to, okay?" she nodded again, and then Mistaro started counting silently in his head. He counted her contractions carefully, then said, "Okay, Colinde, push!"

She pushed as hard as she could, screaming all the while, and then stopped and rested. Again and again, she pushed and rested, until finally, a new life came into the world, and she collapsed against the pillows. Mistaro was quick to clear the baby's airways and soon she was crying. Moments later she was wrapped in a towel and being held by her mother who relaxed and calmed once the worst was over.

Mistaro only watched her for several minutes before washing his hands in a nearby basin and walking out into the garden. He found nothing of use out there as he looked carefully through the rows of plants, as he thought, and went back inside. In the time he was gone Maeassil had gotten the mother and child into a new bed and bathed and stripped the sheets and blankets of the other one. She placed the sheets in a basket then turned to Mistaro, "Whether you like it or not, you are staying here, so you might as well do something useful and help with the sheets and cleaning."

He raised an eyebrow, "I was," at her confused look he added, "I was seeing what useless herbs there were out there, and how long it would take to start that garden over. And this healing wing isn't well-stocked or prepared for anything. I wouldn't treat a horse in here."

"You might have to," Maeassil said seriously, "The horse-master often asked the healer for help."

"As they did in Gondolin, but this healing wing is next to useless right now," Mistaro said bluntly, "It's amazing your healer didn't kill anyone by accident."

Maeassil looked as though she wanted to say something, but thought better of it when Colinde called her over. She listened for a moment then turned to Mistaro, "Her family can come in, right?"

Mistaro only nodded, and Maeassil left. Colinde looked at the silent healer, then said quietly, "I know you don't want to be here, but thank you for today. It means everything to me."

"I do my duty, my lady, as a healer, nothing more," Mistaro said, turning to her, "I appreciate your gratitude, but I would have appreciated your lords asking for my aid for first. They give me no choice," he looked even closer at her, "Do you know what it is like to have no choice, my lady?" she shook her head and Mistaro said, "Then do not speak about it to me."

Colinde looked as though she wanted to answer, but stopped herself as her family came in and the healer faded into the background.

When next she looked for him, he was gone.

* * *

Mistaro was out in the herb garden, looking over what needed to be done to grow herbs that were actually useful, when an elf came out and joined him. This elf only said, "I am Colinde's father. Thank you for today."

Mistaro only grunted, focused on what the earth was telling him to strengthen it, and make green things grow again.

Colinde's father waited a few moments in silence before saying, "You are not happy here," Mistaro glanced at him before the elf continued, "I can understand why. This place is very different from your home, and you are not here willingly," he looked at Mistaro carefully, "Would you have come here if you had been asked?"

Mistaro shrugged, "I guess we will never know now. It is a shame, that I was not given the freedom to make a choice. You would think Maedhros would understand how important free choice and free will is."

"_Lord_ Maedhros does know the importance of free choice," the elf said mildly.

"He has an interesting way of showing it," Mistaro muttered, then said more loudly, "Why are you here? To convince me that I will learn to like living here?" he shook his head, "I doubt that highly."

"No, I'm not," the elf said, "I'm just here to thank you for helping my daughter today. That is all," and he turned back and went inside, leaving Mistaro alone to ponder over his words or lack thereof.

* * *

Later in the day saw Mistaro outside Maglor's study, waiting patiently with his arms crossed. The guards that escorted him everywhere were shifting impatiently and none too keen on waiting for him, but he didn't care and was ignoring them completely. He needed to speak to Maglor about some things, and he knew how to wait him out. He had been waiting for almost an hour after being announced, and he could wait even longer if need be.

This game he knew how to play very well.

When he was finally invited in, he entered and shut the door without taking his eyes off the occupants of the room. Maglor was there, along with Maedhros and Amras. All three did not look surprised to see him and Maglor said, "Ah, Múldir, please...have a seat."

"I prefer to stand," Mistaro said, coming over and making no move to sit down.

"As you wish," Maglor said, shooting a glare at his brother to keep him from saying anything. Maedhros relaxed back into his seat, but his eyes never left Mistaro.

Mistaro only ignored him, and Maglor said, "We heard about Colinde. Thank you for helping her today."

Mistaro said nothing and continued to stare at him, his deep blue eyes somewhat unnerving, and Maglor continued, "Is there something you need?"

"Several things actually," Mistaro said, "First, get rid of the guards following me around, I know I cannot escape from here and I am certain they have better things to do. Second, get rid of the chains, I know I cannot escape and you do not help your case imprisoning me in such a way. Third, if you want me to stay as your healer, and I will since I have no choice, I want to change the healing wing."

That caught Maglor's attention more than anything Mistaro had said previously, "Change in what way?"

"I'll be blunt," Mistaro said, "I wouldn't treat a horse in there. The supplies are old, the herbs useless, and there are not enough bandages and linens. And that's just for starters. There is a lot of work that needs to be done. If you want to force me to work here, then you agree to let me do what I want with it and start over. With everything."

Maglor considered him for several moments before looking at his brothers. Both seemed to disagree with Maglor, but he didn't seem to care when he looked at Mistaro and said, "That sounds fair enough. You may do as you wish in regards to the healing wing. And I will get rid of those following you, as well as the chains; you make the argument more effectively than Maeassil did. You seem to know more than you let on, I will not test that intelligence."

"Wise choice," Mistaro said, then added, "And since I will need to restart the healing wing garden completely, I will need to gather herbs from outside to do so," all three brothers stared at him in outrage, and he smiled slightly, "Unless you have an elf who can harvest herbs correctly without damaging their roots, which I highly doubt, by the way, I'm afraid you have no choice. The herbs in the garden are dead and cannot be revived. There is no other way."

"We will think about that part," Maedhros said, "You cannot expect us to be that stupid."

Mistaro smiled slightly, "You abducted a healer and took him from his family and kin. Need I say more?"

"You –!" Maedhros started to say, but was cut off by his brother, "You may go, Múldir. We will let you know about going outside the wall to collect herbs. Get the healing wing ready as you see fit first."

Mistaro only said, "A healing wing without herbs is just a room with a lot of beds," before leaving and shutting the door.

Maglor looked at his brothers, "Well..._that_ was interesting."

"And not in a good way," Maedhros grumbled before saying more loudly, "He just used our words against us."

"Yes he did," Maglor agreed, "And the fact that he is right and he knows it makes it all the more irritating," he stood up, "I should go reassign those guards and find a blacksmith for that chain."

"You were serious about that?" Amras asked, clearly shocked.

"Yes, I was," Maglor said, "Let's not give him any more proof to use against us that we do not keep our word. The fact he is right about everything he said and he knows it will not help our case."

With that Maglor left, while Maedhros and Amras only looked at each other before also leaving, knowing they would not be able to change their brother's mind.

He was stubborn, especially when he thought he was right.

* * *

Later in the day Mistaro returned to his chambers, un-escorted, and was glad to see the chain next to the bed was gone.

He smiled as he went out onto the balcony, taking in the stars and the moon that was just coming over the horizon. He would likely always hate living here, but at least he had more freedom than he thought he would.

At least that was something.

* * *

The next day, after the morning meal, Mistaro was summoned to Maglor's office again. When he entered he saw that Maglor was alone, working on some paperwork. He motioned Mistaro to take a seat without looking up, but Mistaro again stayed standing.

Maglor eventually finished what he was doing and looked up, saying, "I've thought over your request to gather herbs outside the keep," Mistaro said nothing, face carefully blank, and Maglor continued, "I will allow it, but the guards will shoot you down if you attempt to escape. Do you understand?"

Mistaro nodded, "Is that all?"

Maglor stared at him a moment longer before saying, "If you want to leave the building and explore you can. Perhaps you should get to know some of those here? It may make things easier for you."

Mistaro cocked an eyebrow, "The last contact I had with anyone that lived here I had to nearly punch some sense into his head. It is clear I am not liked here, why should I make an attempt to be friendly or make friends if no one here will treat me with any degree of decency?"

"They may surprise you," Maglor said lightly.

Mistaro replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, "So far, the only one I like here is the horse that brought me here. She has stood by me and treated me kindly and without deceit."

With that Mistaro left, and Maglor was left staring at the place where he had been, wondering just how he was going to control that one.

It would not be easy.

* * *

After his meeting with Maglor Mistaro left the castle, blinking a few times to clear his vision before looking around and heading for the stables. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a guard following him, likely to make sure he wouldn't try anything.

Mistaro ignored him, walking purposefully towards the stables. When he arrived he looked around for a moment before finding who he was looking for. He walked to her stall and greeted the mare that had carried him the entire way to Himring.

"Hello pretty girl," he said softly, "You seem to be doing well today."

The mare nickered and snuffled along his arm, looking for treats before nuzzling his cheek. He smiled slightly, "I don't have anything for you, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

The mare snorted but stepped back as he opened the stall door. He went inside slowly, giving the mare every chance to let him know he wasn't welcome in her personal space. She accepted him though and he entered the stall fully, running his hands along her coat and appreciating for a moment how strong and supple she was. This mare was built for speed, but also for war.

Mistaro could only begin to imagine how good of a warhorse she was. He continued to pet the mare, before slowly working his way down her leg that the horse-master had said was trouble when he first arrived.

Sure enough, he could feel tenderness and soreness, as well as a bad joint. But it wasn't because of bad breeding. He could feel, just below the skin near her knee, something that wasn't supposed to be there. Something that was causing her pain and lameness.

"Well, pretty girl," he said quietly, "It looks like we have some work to do," looking up at the mare from where he was crouched next to her leg. The mare only shook her head and snorted, clearly not interested in him since he didn't have any treats.

Mistaro smiled slightly at her before rising and leaving the stall, making sure he latched it correctly. The stall doors were slightly different than the ones in Gondolin. On his way out of the stables, he saw the horse-master, who only said, "I won't let anyone ride her until you say so. I would like that leg fixed as much as she does."

"No guarantees, no promises," Mistaro warned, and the horse-master said, "That's how life is. But I will be glad for a chance."

Mistaro nodded warily before leaving the stables and heading back to the keep, heading for the healing wing. With nothing else to do, he might as well start getting it the way he wanted.

* * *

Getting the healing wing ready surprisingly didn't take much time, but Mistaro blamed it on the fact it was so poorly stocked and maintained. There wasn't much to do because there wasn't much there.

Getting the herb garden ready for planting was what took the longest, and it was rather cathartic. He hadn't done work like that in a long while, and he actually enjoyed it. He pulled out what remained of the dead plants, then grabbed a hoe and started turning the soil over, finding healthy soil underneath ready for planting. He just needed plants to grow and take care of.

Once finished with the garden, he went back inside and cleaned every inch of the healing wing, removing a few month's worth of dust. The cobwebs he found he kept to soak and use later, knowing they were great for sealing wounds.

The entire time he worked, Colinde watched him. He had decided to keep her in the healing wing a few days to monitor her and her baby. She said nothing at all, and he stayed in the healing wing the entire night with a book. Maeassil brought him and Colinde some dinner, which he ate while reading. Maeassil didn't stay, seeming to know he didn't want company.

The next day, after going to his new chambers and washing and changing his clothes, he saw in the courtyard that horses were ready for herb-gathering. Maglor was standing there with them, and he said, "Remember what we discussed, Múldir," as Mistaro walked over.

"How could I forget? You wouldn't know how to be subtle even if you had to be," Mistaro said as he gathered the rope tied to one of the horse's halters, "I have no interest in being killed by your guards. I wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction."

Maglor decided to say nothing and only nodded instead, watching as the healer and three guards left the keep and disappeared into the forest. Only then did he leave the courtyard to go back to his office. He had a lot of work to do if he wanted to help Múldir get the healing wing ready. The healer might have a mouth and an attitude, but even Maglor knew that an ill-prepared healing wing was a disaster waiting to happen. The least he could do was start the process of supplies such as bandages and linens being made.

* * *

Once free of the stone and stifling atmosphere of the keep Mistaro breathed easier. The guards were watching him carefully, but he didn't care. He could hear the Song, from the trees, and it instantly calmed him and settled his spirit.

He had been separated from the woods for too long.

He looked around for a moment, orienting himself, before walking down the trail with the horses and guards following along behind. Finally, he came to the tree he had heard the loudest, even inside the keep where the Song was muffled: a venerable oak, almost as old as the land surrounding it.

Mistaro stared at it for several moments before walking forward and resting a hand against its bark. He tuned out the guards shifting impatiently behind him and only focused on the tree. After many long moments, the tree responded, telling him all he wished to know. It told him where to find the herbs he needed and the trees he wanted to talk to and grow.

Mistaro came back to himself slowly, opening his eyes and smiling at the little oak tree that was growing nearby. The ancient oak had told him he could take the little one, and grow it in his own home to help him be at peace. Only two hand spans tall, he still knew it would grow strong and tall very quickly. He went to the gelding he had been leading and took a small pot and went back to the little oak.

After only a few minutes the oak was in the pot and Mistaro was placing it gently in one of the saddlebags. One of the guards spoke then, "Why do you need an oak tree for healing?"

Mistaro only said, "I don't," before continuing on his way, heading deeper into the forest. The guards only looked at each other before following him, not fully understanding what he was doing, and he didn't care to explain.

The rest of the day was much of the same. The guards and horses followed Mistaro as he collected herbs such as sage, nettles, rose hips, and bitter root, and many others. By the time he was done three out of the four horses were packed with herbs that had been carefully dug up and potted.

The last horse, the gelding he led, was carrying saplings and young trees ready for planting in a new place. Oak and elm, beech and yew, chestnut and ash; soon he had many trees to grow alongside the herbs he had collected. Some young bushes were also collected: blackberry and strawberry, and a rose bush he had found.

One of the guards said it best as the sun went past its zenith, "Now that you have enough to grow your own forest, can we go now? We have missed lunch and I'm tired of walking," the other guards nodding in agreement.

Mistaro turned to them and said, "We only need to find one more. Then we can go back."

The three guards all groaned, and Mistaro smiled slightly before walking over to a tree and asking it a quick question. He got an answer straight away, the tree overjoyed to have a wood-elf in the area once again. It had been too long since a wood-elf had been in that forest.

Mistaro smiled at the tree's enthusiasm before heading deeper into the forest, the guard's grumbling and following behind. After almost half an hour he came upon what he was looking: a small dell in the forest, the floor covered in what looked like weeds.

But Mistaro knew better.

He went and took several pots, collecting several plants while the guards looked on in confusion. They had recognized almost all the plants he had collected before, but these were strange to them and they didn't understand why he wanted them. One of them finally said, "I have never seen a healer use that before. What is it?"

Mistaro smiled slightly, "I'm not surprised you don't know what it is. This didn't even grow in Gondolin. But the Sindar and Silvan know it for what it is: kingsfoil, or _athelas_. It has many uses: the simplest being it can cure a headache and ease breathing, the most difficult being that it can drive darkness out of someone. At least, that is what my mother and other wood-elves said the Queen Melian could do with it. I have never used it, but I think it may be useful someday."

He went and stowed the _athelas_, then said, "I am done. Let's go back before it gets dark. I don't want to know what wanders this forest at night," to one of the guards. The guard nodded and led the way. They arrived back at the keep three hours later, tired and dirty, but loaded with herbs and trees that Mistaro would need.

Before the guards could disappear though, Mistaro had them go with him to the healing wing garden to unload everything from the horses. Once that was finished the guards and horses left. Mistaro went inside briefly to check on Colinde, and after finding her and her child resting quietly Mistaro went back outside.

The previous healer might not have been very skilled, but he had at least known where he had wanted the healing wing. The garden was in the perfect place for water and sunlight exposure. Mistaro nodded to himself; the soil was healthy and alive. It was ready for growing things.

Mistaro spent the rest of the day there, planting the herbs where he wanted them to be and where he knew they would like it best once the trees and bushes were planted. He used what Songs his mother had taught him to help the roots take hold and be strong.

Finally, the task was done and he sat back to survey his work. Overall he was pleased; careful tending and little use would help the herbs grow strong and create their own little forest. They would support each other and help each other grow.

But Mistaro wasn't completely finished yet. Throughout the garden, he had left large patches bare, and now he was ready to plant the trees and bushes he had brought back. Only then would he have created a forest-like area in a place of stone and rock.

The trees instantly blossomed once soil covered their roots, the power of Mistaro's Song helping them grow several feet in only a few minutes. Soon they would be tall and strong, and Mistaro's little corner would be complete.

Finally, as the moon looked down from overhead, Mistaro went back into the healing wing and collapsed into a chair, his work done for now.

He was asleep in seconds.

* * *

The next day dawned gray and stormy. Mistaro watched as the rain poured down, glad he had gotten the trees planted. They had more than tripled in size and were now protecting the herbs from the worst of the downpour and being washed away while the bushes and trees also collected the water and kept the herbs from drowning under the deluge until grass could grow as well.

Colinde watched from the chair she was sitting in nearby, "I didn't know trees and bushes could protect each other and do so much," she said quietly.

Mistaro shrugged as he watched the rain," Everything in the forest has a purpose, everything works together to keep the forest in balance and healthy. You just need to understand the individual roles in order to bring them together again in a new place," he turned away to go back inside, "I am discharging you and your child tomorrow. You can go home but take it easy. Slowly start your routines again. If your body says it's time to stop and rest, listen to it. It knows better than you what it can handle right now," never taking his eyes from her face. He wanted her to understand how serious he was.

Colinde nodded slowly and Mistaro left. He came back an hour later after bathing and getting something to eat. While he was gone crates of bandages had been delivered, and when he returned he put them away, organizing them throughout the healing wing on tables next to each bed. The extra crates went into a nearby closet that Maeassil had cleaned out thoroughly while Mistaro was herb-gathering.

Once he was finished there he went to another closet and disappeared inside, leaving almost immediately as he sneezed from the dust that had collected inside from disuse. He shook his head and went inside again, this time prepared. He brought everything out and then cleaned inside the closet before opening the boxes he had brought out to see what equipment he had available.

He was not impressed with what he saw.

Dull scalpels, broken forceps and retractors, suturing material that snapped at the slightest tug. Needles were dull and rusty, braces and splints were old and useless. These supplies were even more useless than the herb garden had been. Mistaro continued unpacking the boxes, not stopping until all fifteen were empty. He then grabbed a rag, alcohol, and a scraper for chiseling rock from the blacksmith's shop and got to work.

It took hours and hours, clearing every single thing there, but eventually, it was done and the equipment was almost ready for use. He returned the chisel to the blacksmith, who said nothing and only raised an eyebrow when he took a couple whetstones with him.

Back in the healing wing, he went back to work, sharpening the scalpels and needles until they were sharp enough to cut through parchment without any resistance. Doing so took another hour of painstaking work, but it was eventually done.

Finally, as day yielded to night and the sun set, Mistaro took everything he had cleaned and started sterilizing it all. He took the forceps apart to clean them and their moving parts, and did the same with the retractors, before placing everything in a large bowl of pure alcohol to soak overnight.

He changed the alcohol several times throughout the night, always using a new bowl each time. Finally, as the sun rose again, Mistaro put the retractors and forceps back together, making sure everything moved well and wouldn't get stuck during surgery. Once finished with that he held everything over a flame, one tool at a time, before wrapping everything in alcohol-soaked cloths.

Nothing went back into that storeroom, instead, it was all placed in the surgery room, to be ready at a moment's notice.

Mistaro did leave a few bundles in the main healing wing though, just in case they were needed.

Finally, after days and days of hard work and aching muscles, Mistaro had a functioning healing wing. He may not want to be here, and may be forced to work against his will, but at least fewer people would die here because of an ill-prepared healing wing and healer.

He already had at least one success story, glancing at Colinde and her child, and he might have another one if he could help the mare that had brought him here. In the end, he may be trapped here for a time, but like he told Maeassil, it wouldn't be for very long.

This he knew in his bones and in his spirit. He would not stay with the Fëanorians for longer than a century, he was certain of that.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey everyone, here's chapter 5. Chapter 6 is done, just need to finish proofreading and editing and then we'll be good to go. Enjoy the fall of Sirion! Some surprise guests make an appearance here and in the next chapter, so stay tuned. See you next time!

* * *

Mistaro's life had, for the most part, settled into a regular routine at Himring. He would wake up and get breakfast for himself, go to the healing wing and stay there until lunch, eat lunch with Maeassil, then wander the keep out of boredom unless he was called back to the healing wing to tend someone. Even if elves weren't injured every day on patrol, small injuries and accidents always occurred in the keep.

He had been able to help the mare that had brought him to Himring, but she had been put on complete stall rest for a year while everything healed. Mistaro supervised her exercise now to make sure everything was healed the way it should be and would stay that way.

Despite his belief to the contrary, he had actually made a few friends aside from Maeassil and the mare. One was the blacksmith, who he found had a wicked sense of humor and also had little respect for Maglor and Maedhros. He had been loyal to Curufin and didn't like Maedhros.

But he didn't have anywhere to go and so he stayed.

Another friend was Colinde, who helped him in the healing wing. She kept it clean and organized, and he had taught her the basics of healing just in case he was overwhelmed she could handle the less seriously wounded. He wasn't sure what her husband thought of the arrangement and didn't care. He needed all the help offered some days because no one else was willing to learn from him. The guards still treated him rather coldly and didn't bother to learn his name.

Finally, his last friend was the horse-master. They had become friends almost immediately, a shared understanding and respect building from compassion they both shared for animals. They worked together to keep the horses healthy and strong, with Mistaro able to manipulate joints and limbs to alleviate aches and pain, as well as cracking certain bones and tendons to ease and relieve tension.

Now, the most ill-tempered horse had turned into the most docile once the tension and pain were relieved from his joints.

The healing wing garden had flourished over the years as well, the trees now tall and strong, the grass long and the bushes bearing fruit. Birds lived there, as well as a few rabbits and mice that had found their way in, but Mistaro let them be. They helped aerate the soil and kept the grass from getting too long. They didn't touch the herbs, knowing they were important for healing.

Mistaro, after visiting friends in the afternoon, would climb one of the trees in the garden and listen to its song, waiting for patients. If none came by dinner he would leave and eat with Maeassil in the kitchen, not wanting anything to do with the Sons of Fëanor. He only dealt with them when he absolutely had to, and even then, for as short amount of time as possible.

He truly did not like any of them, although he had some respect for Maglor. That elf knew how to run the keep and didn't put up with too much nonsense, but he wouldn't do anything to help Mistaro if someone decided to punch him for whatever reason.

This had been his routine for over twenty-seven years. The memories of Gondolin and all he had lost still kept him up most nights, and when that happened he would slip down to the healing wing and spend the rest of the night there, listening to the tree's songs and attempting to sleep. He seldom could, but he still got enough rest to keep functioning throughout the day.

And sometimes he would take a nap when he climbed a tree in the afternoon, somehow able to sleep during the day more easily than at night.

It was during one such nap that he was shaken awake by a guard. Only his Silvan heritage kept him from falling on his face and kept him in the tree. He looked down at the guard, an eyebrow raised, and the guard said, "Lords Maglor and Maedhros want to see you in Lord Maglor's study, right now."

Mistaro nodded as he yawned. He had been enjoying that nap. All he said was, "Very well," before climbing down from the tree and walking through the healing wing, out the doors, and navigating the hallways until he came to Maglor's study. He knocked and then leaned against the wall to wait. He had been to Maedhros' study once or twice and decided there wasn't much to see there and knew better than to go there without permission.

That had earned him a few bruised ribs when Maedhros punched him for going in there without permission. Never mind it was Maglor that had sent him in there in the first place.

How urgently he was needed was shown in how long they would make him wait.

'Not long, it must be important,' he thought as he was bidden to enter almost immediately. He did so, walking over to the desk and remaining on his feet, even when Maedhros, who was seated, glared and gestured him to sit.

Too bad for Maedhros, he preferred to stand.

Maglor ended up ending the stand-off when he cleared his throat and looked up, saying, "Múldir, thank you for coming. We have something to tell you."

"You have seen the error of your ways and will let me go home?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. When neither brother answered, he smiled slightly and shook his head, "I didn't think so. What do you want to tell me?"

"To mind your mouth," Maedhros muttered, to which Mistaro said, "Good luck with that," the sarcasm still in his voice.

Maglor ignored the exchange with irritating proficiency and said, "Actually, it is something else," Mistaro looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he continued, "Elwing of Sirion, daughter of Dior and Nimloth, has one of the Silmarils in her possession. We have sent messages to her, and she is willing to trade it if we leave her people in peace. We would like you to come along to treat any injuries if we are attacked by orcs on the way. What do you think? Would you be willing to go?"

Mistaro was surprised, to say the least, and therefore speechless. After a few moments, he was able to say out loud, "You trust me enough not to go to my family when we get to Sirion? You think those of my people that are there would let me stay with you when they see me? They will know you took me against my will. My opinions about you were well known in Gondolin."

"You are not going into the Havens," Maedhros said, "You will wait with the escort while my brothers and I go inside. We aren't losing our only healer because of your people or your emotions. You have no choice in that matter, only if you want to come along to the coast. If you do, start preparing."

Even despite the situation Mistaro couldn't help another smile, "I figured as much; no matter what happens I am still your slave, even without chains to bind me," he ignored the outraged looks on their faces and continued, "I will begin preparing what I will need to bring," he left then, and the brothers nodded at each other after getting over their anger about his comments. Even after all these years that healer still had a mouth on him.

But more importantly, he had believed their lie and wouldn't be able to stop what would happen. They weren't going to Sirion to be given the Silmaril. They had tried that and that had failed, Elwing too proud or too ignorant to give it to them. They would take it, by force if necessary, and the Valar help whoever tried to stop them.

Such was their oath.

* * *

Three days later the group left the keep, Mistaro astride his usual mare. He had ridden her often around the keep to see if her stride was right and there was no limp and had decided she was ready, finally, for an excursion outside the keep that was more than a few miles. He had packed everything he would need into his saddlebags, and even convinced Maglor to give him a blade in case they were attacked by orcs. Maedhros had argued against it, until Mistaro had said, "You are the Kinslayers, not I. The only things I don't mind killing are orcs."

Maglor had agreed to the blade, while Maedhros had only grumbled for a few hours about it before falling silent. He was unfortunately blindfolded for the first few days after they left the keep, the Fëanorians still not trusting him at all. The journey west was uneventful; Mistaro using his ability to commune with trees to help them avoid orcs, as well as a long-range patrol from Eregion.

Even Maedhros looked slightly impressed when he did that.

When they finally arrived at the coast, or as near as they dared to bring Mistaro, his mare got it into her head to bolt, surprising everyone. He was able to get her to stop at a bluff overlooking the Havens and was amazed at what he saw.

The Havens were like a city; stretching for about two miles in both directions along the shore. Docks out into the water had several ships tied to them, and overlooking it all was a house larger and grander than the others. It had a mixture of themes and motifs from Gondolin and Doriath, and Mistaro guessed that was Elwing of Sirion's house.

Pounding hooves caught his attention, and he turned to see Maglor behind him. He said nothing, and Mistaro only said, "She bolted before I could stop her."

Maglor nodded, grabbing the mare's reins and leading her back to the group. When they arrived Mistaro was forced from the mare and bound hand and foot. He didn't bother to say anything, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

Maedhros smiled, "You're learning," before turning to walk away. Normally Mistaro would have said something about the situation or said that there was no need to tie him to anything or make it impossible for him to escape.

"I'm learning you have nothing remotely resembling decency, but that is all," Mistaro said in response. Maybe he hadn't learned at all.

Maedhros stiffened but continued walking away. Looking around then, Mistaro realized there were a lot more elves than the number they had originally traveled with. The rest of them must have been traveling behind them at such a distance that Mistaro and the trees couldn't sense them. A sinking feeling settled deep in his stomach as he called to Maglor, "What are you doing Maglor? You won't be able to convince the people of Sirion you mean no harm with these numbers!"

"We don't plan to convince them of anything," Amras said instead of his brother, "They will give us the Silmaril or they will die," he turned to his captain, "Gag him, I've had enough of hearing his voice for now."

"Haven't you caused enough bloodshed?!" Mistaro cried as the captain approached, a strip of cloth in his hand, "Aren't you tired of being the bringer of death?!"

The captain reached him then, and with the help of two others because Mistaro fought them the gag was forced into Mistaro's mouth and tied. Only when they were done and had stepped back did Amras answer, "If we get the Silmaril, it will be worth it."

Mistaro shook his head so hard the bones in his neck cracked, but his eyes were calm as he stared deep into Amras' eyes. _Death will find you today_ his deep blue eyes seemed to say, and Amras shuddered slightly before turning away. He went to his brothers then to finalize their plans, and Mistaro tried to free himself, but it was no use.

The knots and ropes were too strong.

In the end, Mistaro was helpless and could only watch as the troops went down into the city, a small group staying behind with him. They didn't look particularly happy, but it was likely because they had to stay behind, not because of the bloodshed that had been promised.

The wind changed at some point, bringing with it the sounds of battle: steel clashing, screams and war cries, destruction and agony.

Mistaro couldn't bear to listen, to elves killing elves for a jewel that would mean nothing in the end, but he had no choice. Suddenly he remembered his family was likely down there, in the midst of the battle. And Legolas, and so many others he had known in Gondolin. He could only hope the Fëanorians had something resembling mercy and would spare those that were not warriors.

Finally, after what felt like hours and hours, silence fell over the area and a lone rider returned to the camp, covered in blood, none of it his own. He spoke briefly with the one in charge of those left behind, who nodded at one of his warriors. That warrior approached Mistaro, untying the gag and pulling it from his mouth and also untying the ropes that bound him. He was yanked to his feet then forced to mount, the rest of the group mounting as well.

They went down into the city, and Mistaro was sickened at what he saw when he saw that the Fëanorians truly didn't have any mercy. Elves, she-elves, and children, all butchered. Children had been beheaded, she-elves disemboweled, elves hacked to pieces. None of them were warriors; they were craftspeople and tradespeople and innocent children. It was unbearable to see, but Mistaro looked at every face, looking for any he might recognize or any that might be alive.

He found one soon enough. He drew his horse to a sudden stop and dismounted before any could do anything to stop him. They didn't try to stop them, as those that had stayed behind were sickened at the sight as well. He kneeled down in front of one of the slain, reaching out a shaking hand to rest it against the cheek of the broken body of his friend Ceutaro. The elf had been a healer in Gondolin and kind to all he met. He didn't deserve this.

The body under his hand shuddered slightly, and Mistaro opened his eyes to see that Ceutaro was still alive. He was staring at his friend with pain-filled eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"M-M-Mistaro..?" he whispered, "How..?"

Mistaro shook his head, "It doesn't matter. I'm here, that's all that matters."

Ceutaro smiled slightly, "Good...to...see...you..."

Mistaro smiled as well, "You as well, old friend."

Ceutaro suddenly coughed, and blood welled in his mouth. Once it subsided he whispered, "No time now..."

"No, there isn't," Mistaro said quietly, tears in his eyes and knowing there was nothing he could do for his friend. The damage was too much.

Ceutaro gasped slightly, then whispered, "I see you, _Naneth_, I'm coming..." one last sigh came from him, and then the elf was still.

Ceutaro was dead.

Mistaro bowed his head for a brief moment before rising to his feet. A quick glance around revealed that all the rest laying there were already dead. He walked back to his mare but didn't mount, deciding to lead her. The group that had brought him down into the city had been silent while he said farewell to his friend, but then the captain said, "There are always losses in battle."

Mistaro stopped walking so suddenly his mare snorted. He turned to the captain then, saying quietly, "This wasn't a battle. This was a slaughter. I know the difference."

The captain said nothing, couldn't say anything, as they went deeper and deeper into the city. The deeper they went, the worst the slaughter became. Only now they were seeing more and more Fëanorians. Most of them sported minor injuries, while a few had more serious wounds. Some lay dead, as the defenders of the city had had a chance to become prepared while the Fëanorians were fighting their way deeper into the city. While the citizens had had almost no defense against them, the warriors had been prepared and had tried their best to defend their home. It hadn't been enough, but the bodies of the Fëanorians said that the defenders had done the best they could.

There was a small group gathered around one body, and coming closer Mistaro could see that it was Amras. He lay where he had fallen, and he was clearly dead. His eyes stared up at the sky, and the sword buried in his chest revealed what his end had been. Surrounding his body were warriors of Sirion, all dead, but one didn't have a sword near him or clenched in a death grip. Mistaro smiled slightly; that elf would never know how much grief he had just saved the world by ending Amras' tyranny at the keep of the Fëanorians. That son of Fëanor had been a complete menace.

So far, Mistaro had encountered more of the dead than the living. He turned to a nearby elf, "Where are Maglor and Maedhros?"

"At Elwing's house," the elf answered, not taking his eyes off Amras, likely grieving the loss of one of his lords, "Thank the Valar they are still alive."

"I'm sure all slaughtered here today felt the same way," Mistaro said before leaving to find the last sons of Fëanor. He followed the road up to the house, finding a complete guard troop of ten, dead, along with their horses.

He raised an eyebrow; were these elves trying to flee with Elwing and the Silmaril and cut down in defense of her? Or was it something else?

He continued up the road, sickened by all the dead he saw. Some he knew, but others he didn't. As he walked, he thought of his friend Glorfindel. Glorfindel had sacrificed his life at the Eagle's Cleft to give his people a chance to survive.

'Survive? For what? To be slaughtered by their own kind years later?' Mistaro wondered as he walked, 'What was the point of all this? Why did they have to kill everyone?'

No answers came to mind, and Mistaro continued to walk, his mare beside him. She walked steady, but she was chewing her bit and rolling her eyes at the sight and smell. She didn't like this one bit.

"I don't like it either, pretty one," he murmured, "My skills aren't even needed here. There are too many dead."

He stopped in front of one house, curious about it. It reminded him of the home he had shared with his family in Gondolin. He stared at it, then slowly walked over, leaving his horse behind. She only stood there, waiting for him to return. He pushed the broken door open a bit more, before walking inside hesitantly. Something about this house...something was _familiar_. Like he had just come home.

All of a sudden, Mistaro knew this was where his family had lived while in Sirion. He went from room to room then, searching and dreading what he might find. He found nothing, thankfully, but he also found something interesting. The entrance to the basement of the house was well-hidden, but he found it easily enough. The house was similar to his old home, and he had known where the hidden doors and traps to the attic and the basement were.

He didn't go inside the basement, hearing the quiet _shhhhhs_ and fearful breathing of many hidden there. He only smiled slightly and hummed a song that only one of Gondolin would know. He then said quietly, face against the hidden door, "I am a prisoner of the Fëanorians and cannot escape. They are still here. Wait until they are gone and the elves of Mithlond come before appearing again. Stay in the basement, no matter what you hear up here."

He left after that, moving a few pieces of furniture to hide the entrance. Pleased with his work, he left the house, seeing that Maglor was waiting for him outside. He said nothing, but Mistaro supplied the answer to the question he never asked: "This was my family's home. I was seeing if they were there."

"And..?" Maglor prompted, almost gently.

"And nothing," Mistaro said bluntly, "They must be at the Havens of Mithlond. My mother has family there."

"That is good to hear," Maglor said, and Mistaro's ire went up a notch.

"What is good about any of this?" gesturing at the slaughter around them, "All this death, for a jewel I'm willing to bet you didn't even get," Maglor flinched and Mistaro knew he had hit upon the truth, "Why I am even here? The only things living here are Kinslayers, and they aren't injured enough for me to be here."

"That's not entirely true," Maglor said. Mistaro turned to him in confusion, and Maglor beckoned him to follow him back to Elwing's house. He did, his mare following along without him having to lead her. Maglor led him around to the back of the house to where a small grove of trees stood. He went straight to an oak and looked up, Mistaro doing the same.

What he saw up there made him whisper, "What?"

* * *

Far away and down the coast, Círdan the Shipwright stood, watching as his fleet got underway. He had just received word from Ulmo that the Havens of Sirion were being sacked by the Fëanorians. His people would sail in defense of their brothers and sisters there and hope they would be in time.

He couldn't bear the idea of _another_ slaughter because of the Fëanorians. Looking around he saw the fleet was ready and beginning to sail out of the harbor. Gil-galad, his foster-son and High-King of the Noldor, joined him at the bow of their ship as they were aided by Ulmo to Sirion.

They could only hope they were in time to save the Havens and Elwing.

And her sons.

* * *

Staring down at Mistaro and Maglor were two petrified children. They were twins, Mistaro could see, and they were absolutely terrified. Mistaro didn't want to imagine what they had seen that day, but he could guess. The memories would likely haunt them the rest of their days.

"I cannot convince them to come down," Maglor said quietly, "They are too scared."

Mistaro said nothing for a moment, then grabbed Maglor's arm and led him to the side. The mare stayed behind, looking up at and nickering gently to the children and trying to convince them it was okay, but they only whimpered and climbed higher into the oak. They were completely terrified, and not even a horse could get them down. As this was happening, Mistaro stopped walking, out of earshot of the children, and asked, "Who are they?"

Maglor answered, "They are the twin sons of Elwing and Eärendil."

Mistaro was shocked to hear that but recovered quickly, "And where are their parents? Somewhere down there?" pointing in the direction of the slaughter below them.

Maglor shook his head, "Eärendil wasn't here at all, and Elwing..." he trailed off.

"And Elwing what?" Mistaro pressed.

"And Elwing jumped from the cliffs with the Silmaril before we could stop her. Her sons saw it all," Maglor finished quietly.

Mistaro stared at him for several long moments before saying, "And why would she do that? What did you say to her that convinced her that jumping from the cliffs was her only option?"

"I begged her not to," Maglor said, eyes haunted, "I begged her to give us the Silmaril and spare her life, but she didn't listen. She just...jumped, before we could stop her."

"And where is Maedhros?" Mistaro asked, not truly wanting to know the answer. Sometimes it was better not knowing where Maedhros was, just so that one could stay away from him during his more intense moments of insanity.

"He is still at the cliff edge," Maglor said, "He can't believe it is gone and needs a moment to process everything."

"_Hmmm_," was all Mistaro said, then asked, "And what do you plan on doing with her sons? They are innocent children, yet you had no problem slaughtering other children today. Why not leave them? Círdan and his people will come soon enough, why not let the twins go with them?"

"No," Maglor said sharply, "They are coming with us."

"Why?" Mistaro asked, "You think that after everything they saw today that will change anything? You think they will just forgive you for all you have done and all that you are?"

"Maybe not," Maglor said, then murmured, "But maybe taking care of them will redeem us a bit," he looked up then, "I need to find my brother and see to Amras' body. Get them out of that tree. We leave the city in three hours, or sooner."

With that Maglor turned and walked away, leaving Mistaro there for a few seconds before he walked back to the tree and looked up, easily finding the twins a moment later. They had climbed higher, but not too high. They looked down at him, eyes wide with fright, and he sighed.

They did not deserve any of this.

"Will you come down?" he asked gently, "I have some food here. I imagine you are hungry. There is some water too."

Neither twin spoke, or showed they even heard him, and that left Mistaro with an option he hadn't wanted to resort to. These children didn't need to be traumatized anymore, but he had no choice. He needed to give them a reason to trust him, and he couldn't do it from the ground and where he couldn't reach them. And he had to do it soon, before anyone came.

If Maedhros came along he would simply order the tree to be cut down with the twins still in it.

Mistaro sighed before going to his saddlebags and pulling out a waterskin and some jerky. He returned to the trunk and looked up the twins. They were still where they had been before, and so he said, "Are you sure you aren't hungry? I know I am."

Silence.

Mistaro finally had to climb the tree, the twin's eyes becoming even wider as they scrambled to get away from him. But there wasn't far they could go, and soon they had to face him. When they did they did so bravely, trying not to show they were afraid.

Mistaro settled on a branch across from them, watching them a moment before reaching the waterskin out to them. They didn't take it, distrust easy to see, and so Mistaro said, "It isn't poisoned, see?" taking a drink from the skin before again trying to give it to the twins.

This time, one of them reached forward as much as he dared and grabbed the skin, giving it to his brother first. Once both had drunk their fill they gave it back to Mistaro, who asked, "Are you hungry? I only have some jerky, but it is better than nothing."

They still didn't say anything, but when Mistaro inched forward to offer the food they didn't back away. They took the food and devoured it, then one of them finally asked timidly, "Who are you?"

"Múldir," a voice that sounded like Maglor passing by called from below, "His name is Múldir."

"Oh," the little one said and was silent. His brother asked, "Are you going to hurt us?"

Mistaro immediately shook his head, "No, I'm not. I am a healer; I don't hurt anyone. I only help them," the twins said nothing to that, and he continued, "I gave you my name, can I ask what yours are?"

They looked at each other a moment before the one that had asked his name said, "I'm Elros."

The other said, "My name is Elrond."

Mistaro smiled then, "It is good to meet both of you, Elrond and Elros. You are twins?" they both nodded, and Mistaro asked, "And who is older?"

Elrond said, "I am," while his brother nodded.

Mistaro smiled again, then said, "Now that we know each other, how about we climb down and go into the house? We can collect some clothes for you before we leave."

"Where are we going?" Elrond asked, "Are we going to Uncle Círdan?"

Mistaro's heart twisted painfully when he heard how the twins regarded the ancient Mariner, and he was saddened when he had to shake his head, "No, we are going to Himring. It is home for us, and we cannot leave you here, alone, to fend for yourselves."

The twins again looked at each other, seeming to communicate more with that look than with words, before they both nodded. Mistaro took that as the consent that it was and asked, "Are you ready to climb down now?"

They both nodded, and then Mistaro went first. Once back on solid ground he reached up to help each twin down, not that they truly needed help. Both landed lightly on their feet and were instantly greeted by Mistaro's horse. She nickered at them gently and nuzzled them; trying to make them feel better. She was so sad that they had clearly been crying and were still very scared, and she wanted to make them feel better.

Mistaro smiled slightly as he looked towards the house, but then the smile faded. He could guess what was inside that house, and instantly knew the twins shouldn't see it.

He would get someone else to go inside and get some more clothes for the twins.

As he was deciding this Maedhros approached. Seeing him, especially covered in blood, caused both twins to hide in fright behind Mistaro, who stood his ground without flinching. The one-handed elf only looked them all over before saying, "We leave now, and take nothing that will slow us down with us. One of the scouts spotted a fleet of ships making their way here. We need to be gone before they get here. Get them," pointing at the twins hiding behind Mistaro, "to the gates of the city."

Mistaro nodded, resigned to the fact the twins would be traveling without proper traveling clothes. He would have to get them a blanket or cloak for the cold nights that lay ahead.

Maedhros walked away and disappeared into the house, and Mistaro turned to the twins and kneeled down, looking them both in the eye, "Are you ready to go?"

It was clear Maedhros had frightened them, as they both nodded and gripped each other's hand tightly. Mistaro smiled sadly and reached out a hand in silent invitation. Neither took it for a moment, then Elros reached out and took it, his twin doing the same a moment later. Mistaro nodded; there was a building trust here, he needed to be careful to make sure he didn't violate or betray that trust.

He had a feeling that they wouldn't trust so easily ever again, and he needed to make sure he never lost it.

* * *

The walk through the city was difficult. There was simply no way to hide the slaughter, and the twins didn't want to be blindfolded or hide away. They walked through the city with Mistaro, trying not to look.

It was impossible.

There was blood and death everywhere, and the twins knew many that had fallen that day. The troop of guards clearly meant something to them, as they stopped at the body of the captain and tried to wake him up. He didn't respond to their pleas, and Mistaro had to coax them away gently. They went reluctantly, crying all the while. He held them close for a moment, letting them cry into his shirt, before they could bring themselves to continue on.

Mistaro mounted them on his mare after that, guiding her through the city while Elrond and Elros tried not to look at the slaughter. They weren't very successful. Finally, they were at the city gates and out on the plains surrounding what had once been a thriving city.

Now it was only a ruin soaked in blood.

Mistaro walked his mare up to the camp the Fëanorians had made, not surprised to see that it was already packed up and everyone that had survived was gathering there. These elves were brutally efficient, and so there was nothing left to do but wait for Maglor and Maedhros.

They came soon enough, followed by the rest of their people that had survived, leaving behind those that had not to rot in the sun. When Maedhros saw the twins he said, "I don't know why you insisted on letting them live, brother."

"Maybe a small bit of redemption," Maglor said, "And they will make good hostages if the need arises."

Maedhros only said, "Mount up," to those that were waiting on foot. They did so, Mistaro riding between the twins on his mare. Neither twin had said a word since seeing the dead captain, and Mistaro knew they were in shock.

The troop left the area then, just riding out of sight as the fleet from Mithlond arrived in the bay.

* * *

Círdan and Gil-galad surveyed the sight before them in dismay, grief, and anger.

They were too late.

All around them lay the slain. None had been spared, and none could be saved. They had docked their ships at what remained of the harbor and their troops had moved quickly to secure the city and search for survivors. So far they had found none.

Círdan sighed, "Some of these elves survived the Kinslaying in Doriath; others the Fall of Gondolin."

"Only to be slaughtered at the Havens of Sirion over something that means nothing," Gil-galad said softly.

Círdan nodded before saying, "Come, let us see if we can find Elwing's sons, hopefully alive and hidden, and perhaps Elwing herself."

Gil-galad nodded and they began to walk deeper into the city as their people continued to search for survivors and prepared the dead for burial. The few dead Fëanorians would be buried in a mass grave, deserving nothing less or more for what they had done. The innocent of Sirion would get individual graves in the plains outside the city, honoring those that had fallen under the blades of their own people.

Gil-galad and Círdan eventually stopped at the body of Amras, with Círdan saying, "Now there are only two Sons of Fëanor remaining," looking over the scene in front of them. Many dead guards surrounding Amras had clearly tried to kill him, but only one had succeeded.

That one was being held by one of their warriors, who said softly to no one, "How do I tell _Naneth_ about her son?" holding the body of his brother closer.

Círdan and Gil-galad looked at each other before Círdan said, "You tell her he died defending his home and his people as best as he could and achieved a high honor by killing one of Fëanor's sons, and that is all. Your brother fought honorably and bravely, and he will be remembered always."

The elf only nodded vaguely, and the two lords moved on, knowing there was nothing more they could say. Eventually, they came to the same house Mistaro had stopped at, only Gil-galad stopped while Círdan continued on for a few paces. Círdan stopped and looked behind him when he realized Gil-galad wasn't with him, asking, "What is wrong, Ereinion?"

Gil-galad shook his head, "I don't know. Come with me?"

Círdan nodded and followed his foster-son into the destroyed house. They searched every room, but just as they were about to leave the last room, the kitchen, Gil-galad's keen ears heard something.

Something that sounded like someone breathing fearfully. Many someones.

Gil-galad turned to Círdan then, pointing at his ear and then pointing at the wall. Círdan nodded and they both walked over to the wall, finding the hidden catch to the basement by accident. The door swung outwards, and when their eyes had adjusted to the gloom Gil-galad and Círdan were shocked at what they saw.

Huddled together in the darkness, hidden in a simple house, were elves. They immediately cowered together, fear easy to see, but instantly calmed when Gil-galad said, "_Saes_, it is only I, Gil-galad, and Círdan the Shipwright. You can come out now, the danger has passed and the Fëanorians are gone."

The elves came forward quickly, revealing trades- and crafts-people that had hidden themselves in the house. Over fifty elves had hidden in that basement, with one saying, "There are twenty more such hiding places throughout the city. We can show you where."

"Very well," Círdan said, "We will get some warriors to accompany those who are willing to those safe houses. The two of us wish to know the fate of Elwing and her sons."

"We cannot tell you that," another said with regret, "Lady Elwing ordered civilians to hide or flee, and after the attack started it was chaos. We could do nothing. Tell us, did any of the warriors survive?"

Círdan and Gil-galad shared a glance before Gil-galad said softly, "It doesn't look like it. You are the first living souls we have found in the entire city."

The elf that had asked stared at him for a long moment before following the others outside, clearly in shock. Gil-galad and Círdan went outside as well, where they were immediately met by a captain. He looked at the survivors before turning back to them and asking, "Does this mean what I hope it means?"

Círdan nodded, "Safehouses, with survivors. A few are willing to take you to the others."

"I will arrange everything right away, my lord," the captain said, bowing before racing away.

Gil-galad and Círdan stayed with the survivors a while longer until healers appeared with blankets and food for them, as well as a few wounded warriors that the civilians had been able to save during the slaughter with them that needed care, then continued on until they reached the House of Elwing and Eärendil, already dreading what they might find. If the slaughter in the city was any indication, the house would be covered in blood as well and have bodies in it.

Hopefully not the bodies of Elwing and her sons.

They entered slowly, and almost instantly tripped over the body of a guard. His head was almost completely severed from his body, a look of surprise forever etched on his face. Next to him lay another guard, also dead. His throat had been cut, and his hands were still trying to stop the flow of blood from the cut.

Gil-galad was sickened by the sight, especially when he saw that neither elf had had the chance to draw their blades or even defend themselves. They had not even been given a chance to fight for their lives. Gil-galad followed Círdan from room to room, searching for any signs of life. There were none; every guard, maid, and servant they had found so far was dead, brutally murdered.

The last room they searched was the twin's playroom, or at least, what was left of it. It had been ransacked, just like the rest of the house, and all the toys and books were destroyed and torn apart.

Círdan entered the room slowly, dreading what he might find. Gil-galad didn't blame him. The last time Círdan had been here the twins had helped rescue a stranded dolphin and her calf, but that wasn't it. Círdan had treated the twins almost as his sons, knowing their father was away often. He had taught them how to swim and told them stories at night, and the twins had adored the old Mariner.

Now, to not know if he would find their bodies today or not, tortured Círdan. Gil-galad knew he had promised himself he would help look after the twins, and if they were dead he would never forgive himself.

Círdan and Gil-galad searched the playroom thoroughly but found no sign of the twins. Gil-galad said as much: "Perhaps Elwing was able to send them on their way to Lindon as the attack was starting. They could be halfway to Lindon by now," him wondering afterward if his words sounded any less hollow to Círdan than they did to him.

Círdan was saved having to answer by keen elven hearing picking up a small whimper. Both elves immediately went on the alert, senses trained to the closet in the corner. They approached carefully, opening the door a moment later. Both elves drew in a breath at the sight before them.

It wasn't the twins. Instead, a young she-elf looked up at them, eyes filled with pain as she tried to keep pressure on a wound to her side. The wound was deep and bleeding profusely. The two lords glanced at each other, then Gil-galad kneeled down and asked, "Who are you?"

The she-elf gritted her teeth against the pain before asking instead, "Who are you?"

Gil-galad smiled slightly, "I am Gil-galad. This is Círdan," the she-elf relaxed slightly at his words and Gil-galad tried again, "Now that you know who we are, can I ask who you are?"

The she-elf grimaced a moment before saying tightly, clearly in pain, "My name is Merilinel. I'm a maid in this house. My parents are in Lindon. I was staying with a friend for a time and working here."

"It is nice to meet you, Merilinel," Gil-galad said with a smile, "Can you tell us what happened here if you can?"

Merilinel nodded before saying, "The Fëanorians attacked the city. They wanted the Silmaril, but Lady Elwing had no intention of giving it to them. She knew it was cursed, and would only curse whoever had it. She had everyone working for her leave and go hide, in the safe houses in the city, and lead others to them on the way. I decided to stay and help my lady. By then the Fëanorians were already deep in the city, killing whoever was in front of them. The lady had assembled a guard troop to take her sons to safety, but they didn't make it very far. The guards were all killed and the twins came back here," she stopped a moment later to catch her breath.

As she did so Círdan asked, "What happened next, Merilinel?"

Merilinel grimaced before continuing, "The twins came in here to hide, but took off running as soon as Maedhros appeared. I tried to fight him off if only to give the twins a chance to hide somewhere else, but I was no match for him. He stabbed me, but then left me when he saw something out the window. I think he was expecting me to bleed to death. I was able to drag myself towards the closet a little ways, but then I heard him coming back. I pretended to be dead, and once he had left for good I was able to drag myself in here and hide," her story finished Merilinel stopped speaking, clearly in pain.

Gil-galad asked, "Do you know what happened to Lady Elwing and the twins, Merilinel?"

She shook her head, and Gil-galad looked at Círdan. The ancient elf looked at him, face carefully blank, and said nothing. Gil-galad turned back to Merilinel, saying, "We need to get you to a healer," reaching forward and gently picking her up. She didn't object, one arm going around his neck while the other kept pressure on her wound. He carried her through the house, Círdan staying behind.

Gil-galad didn't question him, guessing the ancient elf needed some time to himself. He walked quickly down the path into the city, Merilinel's blood slowly dripping out of her with every step he took. When he arrived in the city he immediately went to where the healers had set up an area to treat any of the wounded. They were busy treating the survivors for shock and distress, and the surviving warriors for cuts and broken bones, but when Hadlathon saw Gil-galad he immediately broke away from the crowd and came over.

Gil-galad said by way of introduction, "This is Merilinel. She needs help, quickly."

Hadlathon nodded and smiled at her, which she returned weakly. He then said, "This way, my lord," leading them to an open area. Hadlathon kneeled down there, and Gil-galad took that as his cue to lay the she-elf down. He did so as gently as he could, and Merilinel smiled slightly as she said, "_Hannon lle, hir nín_."

Gil-galad smiled, "Thank me by getting better, understood?"

Merilinel nodded, and Gil-galad smiled before turning to Hadlathon and the healers that had come to help and saying, "I will leave and let you work. Take good care of her."

"Never fear, my lord," Hadlathon said, "She is in good hands."

Gil-galad nodded before standing and stepping away, giving the healers the space they needed. He left after that, heading into the city to check the other areas that had been set up to treat the wounded.

There was almost no need.

The dead outnumbered the living, and the healers that weren't needed to tend the living were helping prepare the dead for their final resting place.

Gil-galad's thoughts were interrupted by a timid, "Excuse me? My lord?"

He turned to the voice, vaguely recognizing the owner after a few moments as one of the survivors from the first safe house they had found. He had a blanket around his shoulders and still had a haunted look in his eyes.

Gil-galad doubted it would ever go away.

"Is there something you need? You only have to ask," he said, wondering what was more wrong about this entire situation.

The elf shook his head, "No, your people have been very helpful. There is something you might be interested in knowing," the elf stopped a moment, waiting to be asked to continue. At Gil-galad's nod, he said, "While the Fëanorians were still here, the secret passage to the basement of that house was found," Gil-galad drew in a sharp breath at that, and the elf nodded but continued, "The door wasn't opened at all. Instead, this elf hummed a song only one of the Gondolindrim would know, then said he was a prisoner of the Fëanorians. He warned us to stay where we were and not make a sound then he left. We heard nothing more until you and Lord Círdan opened the door."

Gil-galad was surprised, to say the least, but asked, "Did you recognize this voice? Did you see a face?"

The elf had to shake his head, "I'm afraid not, my lord. We didn't open the door at all, and I didn't recognize the voice at all. You could ask Lord Legolas, though," nodding at an elf being tended by a healer nearby. The warrior had many deep wounds but had been saved by some of his people and hidden in the safe house, along with a few other warriors that had been found before the Fëanorians could kill them. Those few people that had risked their lives to save those warriors were standing around, watching as their defenders were treated and tended.

The people of Gondolin were extremely brave to risk their lives in such a way.

The surviving warriors looked haunted, and Gil-galad knew they would likely feel guilty about surviving this for many years to come. He turned back to the elf he had been speaking to and said, "_Hannon lle_, for telling me this."

The elf bowed his head and walked away, while Gil-galad slowly approached Legolas. He knew of the elf-lord of Gondolin and knew his senses rivaled that of any elf. If anyone could know the voice that had spoken, it might be him.

Gil-galad waited for the healers to finish before walking over and sitting down next to the wounded elf-lord. Legolas was in a semi-propped up position, his chest covered in bandages, as well as a couple around his arm and another around his leg.

He looked up when Gil-galad sat next to him and attempted to smile, but it was more of a grimace. He said, "My lord Gil-galad, how can I help?"

Gil-galad smiled slightly, "I would say you have already done everything you could, but you wouldn't believe that."

"Most likely not," Legolas agreed, with a smile that disappeared almost immediately, "It is never easy being one of a few survivors of a battle, is it? There is always the feeling you should have done more or died with your friends. And there is never much anyone can say to convince one otherwise."

Gil-galad nodded, then said, "If you ever need to talk, seek me out," Legolas nodded, then Gil-galad continued, "I was told that those hiding with you and yourself were almost found while the Fëanorians were still here. Apparently, the one that found you said that he was a prisoner of the Fëanorians. He also hummed a song known only in Gondolin. Did you recognize his voice?"

Legolas winced slightly as he shifted a moment before saying, "I thought I recognized the voice, but it's impossible," voice trailing off and eyes going distant with memory.

"What is impossible?" Gil-galad's voice drew him back to the present, and he drew his attention back to Gil-galad.

Legolas said, "It could have been the blood loss affecting my senses, but I thought it was my old friend Mistaro. He was the chief healer of Gondolin for centuries."

"And how is it impossible for it to be him?" Gil-galad asked gently.

Legolas turned to him fully, eyes bright with unshed tears, "Because Mistaro was captured by Morgoth's creatures and taken to Angband on the journey here. There is no way it could be him. No way in this world."

* * *

Darkness was falling when the Fëanorians finally stopped to make camp. They had galloped their horses throughout the day, putting as much distance between them and the ruined city of Sirion as possible. Maglor had taken the twin riding behind Mistaro then, not wanting him to fall off and be trampled to death.

Mistaro, once he made sure someone would tend his mare, took the twins and settled them by one of the campfires with a blanket. They sat huddled together, the blanket wrapped around their shoulders, whimpers coming from them occasionally.

They were clearly traumatized and terrified of what might happen to them.

Mistaro wanted to stay with them, but the warriors needed tending. He said as much to the twins: "I need to go take care of the warriors. Don't move from this spot, understood? I'll be back as quick as I can."

The twins had nodded and Mistaro had left, warily watching Maedhros pace nearby as he left. He knew Maedhros paced when he was angry and was worried he was doing it so close to the twins. But he still needed to tend the warriors before they started complaining. If he didn't they would try to hit and punch him for being late when he did finally start.

He had been down this path before with them.

As he worked he listened for any sounds of extreme distress from the twins, and in the beginning, he heard nothing. He lowered his guard slightly; maybe he was just overreacting to Maedhros' pacing. Maybe that was how he grieved for a fallen brother as well.

'Or not!" he thought when there was suddenly a scream from behind him. He dropped what he was doing and raced to the campfire, horrified at what he saw.

One twin, Elros, was latched onto Maedhros' arm, begging him to let go and yanking as hard as he could. The other twin, Elrond, was being strangled by Maedhros, small hands trying to get the strong fingers to loosen their hold on his neck. He was choking and gagging, trying desperately to breathe around the fingers slowly choking the life out of him.

But he wasn't strong enough, and he was starting to turn blue.

All this Mistaro saw in an instant, then he was running into the fray. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maglor running over as well.

Maglor yanked his brother off Elrond, able to make him let the child go with a slap to his face, while Mistaro picked Elrond up. The little one refused to cry, but tears were streaming down his cheeks. Mistaro held him close while he watched Maglor drag his brother away, then he sat down next to the fire. The warrior he had been tending looked over, but at the sight of Mistaro's glare he looked away, deciding he could wait a little longer for Mistaro to finish taking care of him.

He needed to look at Elrond's throat and make sure there was no permanent damage before he settled the twins again.

Elros had been crying the entire time, and Mistaro drew him into an embrace, just holding them both while they wept and trembled. They needed to do this, let their emotions out, and it showed in how both were trembling at the end.

Mistaro found he couldn't blame them either, after everything that had happened.

They were too young to have to survive any of this.

Once the tears subsided a bit, Mistaro said gently, "He's gone for now, little ones. I don't think he will bother you for the rest of the night," both twins relaxed slightly at that, and then Mistaro asked, "Can I look at your neck Elrond? I want to make sure it isn't badly hurt."

Elrond tensed in his arms a moment before relaxing and nodding slightly.

Mistaro drew back and gently positioned Elrond so that he could see his neck as well as possible in the firelight.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

Granted, Elrond likely wouldn't be able to speak very well for a few days, if at all, but it would heal. His neck was already turning purple and red and was likely very sore, but he would be alright in time. Mistaro gently touched Elrond's neck and wasn't entirely surprised when the child pulled away, understandably not wanting anyone to touch his neck.

Mistaro smiled gently but did not get angry. Instead, he said, "I need to see if your vocal cords are injured Elrond, or if your breathing is compromised. I'll be as gently as possible, but I do need to check it, alright?"

Elrond regarded him intensely with wary silver eyes that seemed to be looking into his soul before nodding carefully. Mistaro again smiled before saying, "Let me know if it hurts."

Elrond again nodded carefully and Mistaro reached out. He poked and prodded as quickly as he could before saying, "Speaking might hurt for a while, but you will be okay. Let me know if you start having trouble breathing, understood?"

Elrond nodded again and Mistaro turned to Elros. The younger twin had sat nearby them the entire time; his silver eyes keeping a lookout for Maedhros.

He had no intention of being caught by surprise again.

Mistaro found himself agreeing with the child's assessment of Maedhros' character, but only said, "I need to return to tending the wounded. Would you like to come with me and help? This way we can all keep an eye out for Maedhros."

The twins exchanged another of those looks that conveyed more than words before they both nodded. Mistaro smiled before saying, "Then let's get to work!"

He stood up then and walked over to the warrior he had been tending before Maedhros had lost his mind.

The warrior said nothing about the presence of the twins, and neither did anyone else for the remainder of the night. Eventually, the twins fell asleep beside one of the campfires, and Mistaro covered them with a blanket before quickly finishing with the warriors. Once finished he returned to the twins and stayed with them the rest of the night, keeping careful watch over them.

Neither Maglor nor Maedhros appeared until morning.

* * *

Translations:

Naneth/nana – Mother/mommy  
Saes – Peace  
Hannon lle, hir nín – Thank you, my lord  
Hannon lle – Thank you


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here's chapter 6! Please read, review, and enjoy! See you next time!

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear over what remained of Sirion. The elves of Mithlond had worked through the night burying the dead, and they were finally finished. Now it was time to head home with all the survivors and the wounded.

Gil-galad met Círdan down at the docks in time to see the Shipwright loading a large chest aboard the chest. He said nothing about what was in it other than: "In case Elwing returns, or we ever find her sons."

Gil-galad said nothing, and was spared having to answer by an elven warrior using running up and panting out, "My lords! You had better come quickly! The healers found a survivor we missed!"

The two lords looked at each other in surprise before following the warrior. He led them through several streets and alleys before coming to a small square where the cloth-making district of the city had been. It wasn't as destroyed as the rest of the city, and there wasn't as much blood pooled there. The fighting had not been as heavy in this area, but there had still been fighting.

The warrior led them straight to a small group of elves clustered in a tight circle and shouldered through to the center. Gil-galad and Círdan followed him and were surprised at what they saw.

Hadlathon was there, tending an elf. This elf was badly wounded and covered in blood, much of it likely his. He was conscious though and looked at the two lords with pain-filled light blue eyes before looking away, his dark brown hair streaked with blood and dirt. He was seated against two crates stacked on top of one another, and there were wounds where he had been impaled by a couple spears. The healers were getting the bleeding under control and getting ready to stitch gashes and cuts and set a few broken bones.

The two lords looked at each other, realizing why they had been summoned when they saw the elf's tunic. It was of Fëanorian make and had their sigil on the front.

This elf was a Kinslayer!

Hadlathon's voice caught their attention: "...name is Haldamir. He was one of those that attacked the city, but I don't think you truly wanted to, judging by these wounds and where you were found," nodding at some barrels nearby. Craning his head Gil-galad could just see another pool of blood and some smears where the elf had been dragged to where he was now.

"Is that so, Haldamir?" Círdan asked.

Haldamir grimaced in pain as Hadlathon worked, "I tried to stay away from the fighting and tried not to. I didn't want to kill anyone! The only things I have ever killed are orcs! I came here to hide and the defenders found me and forced me to defend himself. I didn't kill any of them though, just fought enough to get them to leave me alone. My own people wounded me this way when I wouldn't fight harder, then left me here to die."

"Then why are you here if you don't want to be?" Gil-galad asked, kneeling down to be at the elf's level. He was without weapons and was completely defenseless right now.

"My father forced me," Haldamir said through gritted teeth as Hadlathon started tending a gash on his side that still had a spearhead in it, "And Amras said it would be worth it if we got the Silmaril. I don't think they got it, and I don't care. I never wanted to follow them!" sounding impossibly young for a moment.

There was an angry murmuring from the crowd when they heard why the Fëanorians had come, with one elf asking, "And why are we wasting herbs and bandages on him?" loudly enough to be heard by all there.

Gil-galad whipped his head around and glared at the speaker, saying, "Because to do nothing would make us worse than them."

"And healers are bound to save as many lives as possible, regardless of who those they tend have sworn loyalty to," another healer, Nestor, said as he approached with a mug of herbs. Haldamir looked at the mug and grimaced slightly, then gasped in pain as the two healers began to gently lower him to lie flat on the ground. Once they did he tensed in pain and tried to shift to get more comfortable before giving up. He was in too much pain to settle comfortably.

The elf that had asked that question ducked his head and walked away, a few others leaving with him. Gil-galad watched them leave, deciding he might need to place a guard for Haldamir in case some angry elves tried anything.

He turned to Haldamir after those elves had disappeared from sight. Haldamir only looked at him, dread in his eyes and quite a bit of fear. Clearly, he was expecting the worst. Gil-galad only said, "You are now our prisoner. Your freedom will depend on your honesty and truthfulness, understood?"

Haldamir nodded, but before Gil-galad could say anything more Hadlathon interrupted, "I'm afraid now is not the time for questions. This elf needs tending first before he loses any more blood."

"Of course," Gil-galad said, then turned back to the wounded elf, "Do as Nestor and Hadlathon tell you, understood?"

Haldamir nodded again, and then Nestor was offering him the mug of herbs. He grimaced at the smell but swallowed it quickly, gagging slightly at the taste. Almost immediately the draught took effect, the elf's muscles relaxing and his head lolling to the side. His eyes slid half-shut and he couldn't force them open any wider. His breathing slowed and he looked at Nestor, surprise and grogginess in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. Nestor only smiled as he placed a clean cloth over the elf's eyes, forcing them closed, "Sleep is what you need most right now. Don't worry, we will take good care of you."

There was no response from Haldamir, and raising the blindfold revealed that he was already deeply asleep. His eyes were shut and his pupils dilated when Nestor checked them.

The two healers were able to work much more quickly now, and soon the elf was ready to be moved. They took him to the ship of Círdan and Gil-galad, as the fleet was ready to go. Gil-galad and Círdan helped with the stretcher after collecting Haldamir's weapons from nearby, which were free of blood, just as he had said. They brought him aboard and settled him near Legolas, knowing the elf-lord would be better company than the others and would actually protect him from those that wished him ill.

Legolas only raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions when Gil-galad said, "He is a Fëanorian. We will judge his involvement later."

Legolas nodded before looking at the elf, taking in the many bandages and the blindfold over the younger elf's eyes. Raising it revealed an elf that couldn't have been older than five hundred years.

Legolas shook his head; this elf had likely been forced to fight and had nearly died. He replaced the blindfold and settled in for the journey, watching as the crew went about their tasks and the healers kept a close eye on the wounded. The wounded were all on one ship while the rest of the survivors were on a few other ships in the fleet.

The journey back to Mithlond, without the aid of Ulmo, took several days but they always had a favorable wind. The Fëanorian prisoner, throughout the journey, was kept drugged and unaware, likely to keep his pain under control. And also likely to keep him from being harassed by elves that were upset over the Kinslaying and his possible involvement. Nestor tended his wounds and kept him comfortable; Legolas sitting nearby for the entire time and keeping people away.

Their arrival at Mithlond was greeted with some hope and a lot of heartbreak. The wounded were unloaded from the ship first and taken to the healing wing of the palace. Many of them were warriors, a few of them unconscious, and they were all given respect by those at the harbor: everyone went down on one knee in their honor as they were carried through the city to the palace.

The Fëanorian prisoner went with them as well, his allegiance hidden under a blanket and the blindfold. All the same, people knew he wasn't a defender of Sirion, but left him alone when Legolas glared at them.

He was for the king and his council to judge.

Merilinel and the few wounded who were not warriors were brought ashore next, and her mother was more than relieved to see her daughter safe. She hugged her daughter close, careful of the stitches in her daughter's side but relieved all the same.

After the wounded were taken to the healing wing the rest of the survivors came ashore. They were greeted and reunited with family and friends, but many watched and waited only to be grieved when a family member or friend did not come to them.

Gil-galad and Círdan had gone with the wounded to the palace to make sure they were comfortable, knowing the citizens of Mithlond would take care of the survivors. When they arrived the healing wing was in a state of organized chaos. Healers were running about and the air smelled heavily of herbs.

The two elf-lords split up then, going to every individual bed and making sure the occupant was comfortable and if they needed anything. The majority were fine after a bath to clean blood, sweat, and grime off and were soon resting comfortably.

The Fëanorian prisoner, Haldamir, was still heavily drugged, but he had been cleaned and the bandages changed. The blindfold had also been removed, and Gil-gala was surprised at how young he seemed now that there wasn't blood hiding his full appearance. Granted, a lot of elves always looked young, but this one was _actually_ young.

Gil-galad guessed his age at maybe three hundred years, maybe four, 'He was too young for this,' Gil-galad realized as he walked away from the bed, 'He truly wasn't given a choice.'

Looking at Legolas in the bed next to Haldamir revealed the elf-lord had reached the same conclusion as well.

Gil-galad shook his head and left, knowing he needed to gather his council and let them know what had happened in Sirion. And then he would need to come to a decision about Haldamir, with one last glance at the young elf. He didn't want to keep any elf prisoner if he could help it.

That was not the way of the Eldar, and he had no interest in letting it happen for much longer.

* * *

The Fëanorian camp was already on the way before dawn the day after the attack. The twins still slept, exhausted from the day and night before, and Mistaro decided against waking them. He took Elrond on his mare to keep a close eye on his neck, while Maglor took Elros. Neither twin stirred when they were carried and lifted, revealing how exhausted they were.

Their ordeal was far from over and they were extremely exhausted from everything they had already survived.

Mistaro said as much to Maglor as they rode side-by-side, "The twins need to go back with their kin. They don't belong here, and Maedhros is cruel in his anger. He could kill them, or anyone who protects them. He is too unpredictable."

Maglor glanced sideways at the healer, "I can handle my brother, Múldir, don't worry."

Mistaro clearly wasn't buying it, as he arched an eyebrow and asked, "For how long? A day? A month? Two months?"

Maglor turned and glared at him, "Long enough so that his anger calms."

"If you say so," Mistaro muttered as he shifted Elrond to a more comfortable position. The child didn't so much as twitch, clearly exhausted and needing the rest.

Once finished Mistaro asked, "Where is Maedhros anyways? I would think he would be waiting for another chance at the twins."

Maglor glared at him again but still answered, "He is scouting ahead. I told him to stay away until his anger calmed."

"At least you did that right!" Mistaro muttered.

Maglor glared at him again but said nothing more as the troop continued east to Himring. The twins slept the rest of the day, exhausted by everything that had happened in their short lives already.

* * *

Gil-galad, Círdan, and the council had over the past two weeks listened to the accounts of all those that had survived Sirion. The accounts were all different, but the one thing they all had in common was that no one knew what had happened to Elwing or her sons, or if the Fëanorians had reclaimed the Silmaril. No matter who they asked no one knew.

Finally, they were finished with the witnesses and had to turn their attention to the prisoner Haldamir. Two weeks had allowed his wounds to heal to the point he could walk around, and so he had been allowed to leave the healing wing. Legolas left at the same time as he and became a friend to him. Legolas kept Haldamir safe from those that hated the Fëanorians and also taught him the ways of elves outside Himring.

Needless to say, they were very different from Himring.

Haldamir eagerly absorbed the knowledge, but he was always aware he was a prisoner. After those two weeks, Haldamir was healthy enough to be brought before the council. Legolas went with him, knowing the young one would need a friend in that room.

When they entered the council had just returned from a small break, and Gil-galad was the first to notice them, "_Ahhh_...Lord Legolas and Haldamir, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, my lord," Haldamir said quietly as he sat where he was directed and Legolas sat next to him.

Gil-galad nodded as he sat at the head of the table and the council sat in their respective seats. Looking around Haldamir saw several faces he actually knew. Hadlathon the healer was there and smiled kindly at the young elf. Two captains he had met, Heledhon and Belegon, were there sitting side-by-side. They were extremely close friends. Also, Lord Círdan was there, and several other councilors he didn't know. All looked at him blankly before turning to the king and waiting for him to speak.

The king said, "We are here to decide what to do with you, Haldamir. I take it you don't want to go back with the Fëanorians?"

Haldamir shook his head, "No, my lord, I don't. They won't accept me after refusing to fight in Sirion, and I wouldn't want to make the journey alone. I would much rather face your people then go back to them."

Gil-galad nodded thoughtfully while a councilor leaned forward in his seat, "I am curious about something, and this is something the entire city will wish to know," Haldamir looked at him and he continued, "How involved in the fighting were you? And what is your age, if I may be so bold?"

Haldamir nodded before saying, "I am only two hundred and fifty years old," the councilor leaned back in his seat, surprised. Everyone else was similarly surprised; not expecting someone that young to be forced to do what he did.

Or, at least, almost forced.

Haldamir continued, "My father forced me to come along. He said it would be good experience to gain, and that it would prepare me for war. I couldn't figure out how to stay behind, and he watched me like a hawk the entire time during the journey to make sure I didn't try to go home. When we arrived at the city my father had me stay near him, but I left him as soon as I could. The defenders of Sirion found me and forced me to fight, but whenever I surrendered they let me be. I was trying to find a way out of the city and leave them all behind when my father and a few others found me. They told me I was a coward and a traitor then tried to kill me. My wounds were because of them. I was able to run and hide where you found me, and the rest you know."

Everyone there was silent after hearing his story, then Gil-galad said, "Remember when I said that your freedom would depend on your honesty?"

Haldamir nodded, "Vaguely."

Gil-galad continued, "I sense no deceit in you, and you are braver than you might think for going against your father. Do you know what happened to him?"

Haldamir shook his head, "No, I don't. And I don't truly care. He tried to kill me, and then left me to bleed to death. And he was eager to kill, I heard him say that. I have no desire to see him again."

Gil-galad nodded thoughtfully while Círdan said, "You are braver and wiser for your choice to do the right thing, even when the consequences could be deadly. But there is one thing I am wondering," at Haldamir's nod he continued, "Some of the survivors spoke of hearing an elf, after the fighting was done, find their hiding place but not reveal them to anyone. Instead, he said he was a prisoner of the Fëanorians from Gondolin. Lord Legolas says he thought the voice was the voice of his friend Mistaro but thinks it impossible as his friend was taken by orcs after the fall of Gondolin. Do you know anything about this?"

Haldamir shook his head, "No, I don't. My father and I lived outside the keep, so we are not fully aware of all the happenings there. I saw many faces I didn't know on the journey; I couldn't begin to try and find just one elf amongst them all."

Legolas spoke for the first time since entering the room, "Mistaro is half Silvan, half Noldor. He has a very unique appearance. His hair is more teak-brown than black, and his eyes are a deep blue. He is rather tall and his skin is a shade darker than a Noldor's. He is a healer, but can fight when necessary."

Haldamir thought long and hard for a few moments before he finally shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember seeing anyone like that during the journey."

Legolas nodded before saying, "Thank you for trying to remember. Perhaps he truly is gone," looking away and falling silent.

The council could say nothing to help Legolas, and so Gil-galad had no choice but to continue on with the conversation, "I know you would like to stay, as a friend and not a prisoner, but we still must find something for you do. Everyone earns their keep here."

Captain Heledhon, who had been silent throughout the meeting, finally spoke: "If I may, my lords?" at their nods he said, "Why not assign him to my patrol? I think he would fit in well, and my men like him. There have been no issues whenever they have met."

This was true: Heledhon and Belegon's shared patrol had met Haldamir and found him to be a skilled fighter and a loyal friend with a great sense of humor. Coincidentally he got along great with Lieutenant Idhrenor, who had a wicked sense of humor and loved to pull pranks. He also seemed like he belonged there, fitting into the dynamic of the group very easily.

"Are you sure about this, captain?" Gil-galad asked, "It may not be a good thing for your patrol. Others may take it the wrong way."

Heledhon nodded, "I am aware of that, my lord. But Haldamir already fits in with my patrol, and they accept him. The fact he was a Fëanorian is known, but my men judge people by their character, not their heritage. They have already accepted him. They asked me to make this request."

"I see," Gil-galad said thoughtfully before turning to Belegon, "And you captain? This patrol is yours as well, you have a say."

Belegon nodded, "Yes, my lord, I do. And I say Haldamir is already part of the patrol. Even our families accept him and like him. Why not allow him to go on patrol with us once, and see what happens? It would prove his loyalty and honor."

Gil-galad nodded, "Very well," he turned to Haldamir, who had been listening silently, "The captains are willing to give you a chance. Don't squander it," Haldamir nodded solemnly, and then Gil-galad asked, "Have you sworn any oaths?"

Haldamir shook his head, "My father wanted me to, after Sirion, but he decided against it during the battle after what happened. He said I didn't deserve to."

Gil-galad shook his head, "That is sad to hear. I won't force you to swear anything to me until you are ready. I give all here that freedom. I want people to follow me because they want to, not because of an oath. When you are ready, come to me."

Haldamir nodded, and Círdan said, "I think that is all settled. Thank you for coming here to speak with us, Haldamir, it is appreciated. Seek out Captain Heledhon later to see about armor, weapons, and a horse for your first patrol with us. Good luck to you, and I hope it works out for you."

"Thank you, my lord," Haldamir said before standing and bowing, "I will do my best."

"I am sure you will," Gil-galad said with a smile, then Haldamir and Legolas left.

Once they left one councilor asked, "Are you sure about this my king? He could be a spy; have you considered that?!"

Gil-galad smiled, "He is too young to be able to hide his intentions. Besides, he is honest and truthful. I sensed no attempts to lie. I doubt he is a spy, and if he is the captains will let us know."

Heledhon only said, "I would bet my life on his honesty, my king. I have been able to speak deeply with him. He is scarred by his father and told me many things that convinced me of his innocence. He will not betray us. He truly wants to be free of the Fëanorians."

"I will take your word for it, captain," the king said, turning to the councilor, "We need to give Haldamir a chance. His life has not been good, and he needs to be allowed to live here without fear. Let him prove himself to the city he is not like the Fëanorians, and they will come around."

"As you wish, my lord," the councilor said, while others there nodded.

Hadlathon was the last to speak on the matter: "Haldamir is very polite. He was respectful and did as he was told when he was under my care. I don't think you need to fear. The only ones who might have to fear are the kitchen staff. That young one can eat."

Many there laughed before the conversation moved on to other things that required their attention that day.

* * *

The arrival of the Fëanorians back at Himring was an almost quiet affair for the twins and Mistaro. All three had been blindfolded for three whole days, and once inside the walls of the keep, the twins stayed close to Mistaro.

It was clear that they were still scared of everything that was going on around them and didn't know what to do.

The warriors had tended their horses and left by the time the horse master could get to Mistaro. He looked at the twins, then Mistaro, and asked, "What happened?"

Mistaro sighed, "I can tell you later, or you can listen to whatever lies Maglor and Maedhros spin. It will be up to you to decide what you believe."

The horse master stared at him a few moments before walking away with Mistaro's mare. Mistaro sighed and started walking towards the doors of the keep. In order to enter though he and the twins had to pass close to Maglor and Maedhros. The sons of Fëanor were in deep discussion about something and weren't paying attention to the three of them as they climbed the stairs. Mistaro would take the twins to his room for the night before they sorted out where they would live tomorrow.

But Elrond was paying attention to the two older elves, likely not to be surprised by Maedhros again, and said, "That's my father's sword."

Silence.

Then Maedhros turned fully to them, and Mistaro was able to see that he was holding a sword belt. The sheath attached to it was inlaid with gold, and Mistaro recognized it as Idril's blade. A knife with a gold wire wrapped around its handle was opposite the sword on the belt. Maglor looked at both twins before looking at his brother, wondering what Maedhros was going to say.

Maedhros sneered, "It's mine now. Decent compensation for not getting what we wanted. And a few extra things that are even more useless," eyeing the twins with disgust.

Elrond didn't even flinch at the insult, "That's my father's sword. You might have it now, but don't expect to keep it for long."

There was silence again, everyone on the stairs surprised at the certainty in Elrond's voice and his courage in standing up to Maedhros, but it was broken when Maeassil came. She looked around at those gathered there before looking at the twins, and Mistaro could almost see her heart melt a bit at the sight of the twins.

He said, "We should go, and get cleaned up. Then we can see what Maeassil has made for dinner."

Elrond broke off his staring match with Maedhros to look at Mistaro and nod. Elros also nodded, and they followed Mistaro and Maeassil into the keep and to Mistaro's room.

An hour later they were all washed in clean clothes Maeassil had found somewhere, and were eating a thick stew she had prepared. As they ate Maeassil joined them and asked, "Now that things have calmed a bit, can you tell me your names?"

The twins looked at each other before Elrond said, "I'm Elrond, and this is my brother Elros."

Maeassil smiled slightly and asked, "And who are your parents?"

"Elwing and Eärendil," Elros said.

Maeassil couldn't hide her surprise, "And where are they? I can't believe they left you alone."

Elros replied, "_Ada_ was away like he often is. He was searching for something, and could only be home rarely. He was away when you came," looking at Mistaro.

There was silence for a few minutes then Elrond said, "_Nana_ jumped off the cliff near home with the big jewel she has. Those two elves, the dark-haired one and the one without a hand, tried to make her not do it, but she did it anyway. She jumped into the sea."

"Oh...I'm so sorry, young one," Maeassil said softly.

"She turned into a bird," Elros said suddenly, "I saw her, she turned into a bird and flew away."

Maeassil stared at him a few minutes before saying quietly, "Elros, I don't think that's possible. I'm certain you just imagined it. It is impossible for an elf to turn into a bird."

"Then I imagined it too," Elrond said quietly, then turned to Maeassil, "So which one of us is lying? At least to ourselves?"

Maeassil stared at him in shock while Mistaro struggled not to laugh. A few weeks traveling with the twins he had learned that Elros spoke more than his brother, but Elrond's tongue was more barbed and his words had more bite when he did choose to speak.

Before Maeassil could recover her wits enough to speak Mistaro said, "You can stay in my room tonight young ones. We will figure out where you will live tomorrow."

"When can we go home?" Elrond asked suddenly, "Uncle Círdan must be worried about us."

Mistaro had no answer right away, but thankfully Maeassil did once she had recovered the ability to speak: "You can go home when you can survive the Wilds on your own. When you can hunt and fight; when you can tend your own wounds and know what can heal you and what can kill you out there. When you can read a map and know where you are going. Then you can go home."

Elrond nodded thoughtfully while Elros said in confusion, "The one-handed elf said we are prisoners. How are we supposed to learn if they don't let us learn anything?"

"They will let you learn," Mistaro said, "We will see to it. I can teach you what I know about healing, history, reading, and writing. Maeassil can teach you about cooking and other random things she knows. If you try to help people in the keep they will thank you for it and teach you. You just need to be inventive in how you learn in order to learn."

"What about fighting? When can we get our father's sword back?" Elrond asked.

"There are sword-masters here," Maeassil said, "They will start training you when you are a bit older. As for your father's sword…." she trailed off for a minute before finding an answer, "You will have to figure that out on your own, I'm afraid. Maedhros will not let you get it back so easily."

"But for now," Mistaro said as he looked at the sky, "It is time for you to go to bed. It is getting late, and the coming times will be trying for you. You will need all your rest," looking at the twins, "I will be nearby if you need me."

They both nodded and went into the bathing chamber to change clothes. When they came back out they got into the large bed and almost instantly fell asleep.

Maeassil and Mistaro took the empty bowls and cutlery down to the kitchen then. Once there Maeassil asked, "Why are they here? What happened in Sirion?"

Mistaro sighed heavily and gave her a quick retelling of the events in that city. Once finished she needed a few minutes to get over the shock before saying, "They saw all of it?"

Mistaro nodded as they left the kitchen and headed back to his room, "I think so. And they definitely saw the aftermath. It was terrible."

Maeassil nodded thoughtfully before saying, "Your family lived there, right? Are they…?" she trailed off, unable to ask the question.

Mistaro shook his head, "My mother has kin in Mithlond. I found their home and it was empty. They must have been visiting her kin."

"That is good to hear," she said, then added, "I think the twins are too traumatized. There is no way an elf could become a bird of all things!"

Mistaro stopped abruptly and turned to her, "You do remember how my city was founded, and Nargothrond as well? Anything is possible when the Valar are involved."

Maeassil shook her head but said nothing more until they were outside the door to Mistaro's room. Once there she said, "Maglor and Maedhros will never let them go free. They are too valuable if High-King Gil-galad and Lord Círdan, or Lords Celebrimbor and Celeborn, decide to attack the keep. They are the most valuable hostages they have ever had, and they know this."

"Perhaps," Mistaro said, "But if they are clever and resourceful enough they can escape from here. And we will help them."

Maeassil raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean by "we"?"

Mistaro sighed as he opened the door, "You already offered to help when you agreed to teach them how to cook and other things you know. You are helping whether you want to or not."

He went inside and shut the door, leaving Maeassil out in the hall to wonder how she had gotten involved in all of this, mostly without her knowledge. No one had ever been able to escape the keep; it would be interesting to see if the twins could.

* * *

Heledhon was quickly becoming impressed with Haldamir as the months went by. The young one was perceptive with good instincts and impeccable aim. He knew instinctively where he belonged in a fight and went there, and his skill with a blade was impressive. The last few times on patrol had gone easily for them.

Haldamir fit in very well with the patrol as well and everyone liked him. Coming home at the end didn't cause as much of a disturbance as Heledhon had thought, but he credited Haldamir for that. Haldamir had gone to all the survivors of Sirion to beg forgiveness for his part in the destruction of their home.

Everyone he had met with had been impressed by his willingness to put himself at their mercy and forgave rather well. A few did not, but neither did they hate him completely.

And coming home one time Heledhon noticed that a she-elf by the name of Naltanárie was actually _looking_ for Haldamir, and he for her. She was a beautiful she-elf, with emerald green eyes and ash blonde hair. Heledhon had smiled and shaken his head; young love was a beautiful thing. Neither Haldamir nor Naltanárie did anything or even met in public, but Heledhon and Legolas didn't see the harm in it. Legolas had more or less adopted Haldamir and looked after him. They even shared a home together. Haldamir was exposed to actual love that he had not gotten from his father, and Legolas taught him everything his father had not wanted to teach him or thought he didn't need to know.

Frankly, Heledhon didn't see a reason to keep the relationship secret, as Naltanárie's parents liked Haldamir and so did her two brothers, but Heledhon didn't ask about the secrecy. Naltanárie's mother treated Haldamir like another son and loved him like a son, and so did her father. Her brothers were like brothers to Haldamir and treated him with respect and kindness, things he didn't really know anything about. His father had been cruel to him, and now he was being exposed to things that he had never experienced before.

It was none of Heledhon's concern why Haldamir and Naltanárie kept their relationship secret, until one day they were getting ready to leave for patrol and Haldamir hadn't appeared yet. Everyone else was there and Heledhon asked, "Where is Haldamir? Has anyone seen him today?"

All shook their heads, and Heledhon got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw Legolas hurrying towards him with a worried look on his face. When he reached the group he looked over everyone there before saying, "Haldamir didn't come home from visiting Naltanárie and her family last night. I was hoping he was with you already."

"No, he isn't," Heledhon said slowly, dread settling in him before turning to the patrol that had gathered close, "Everyone split up and search the city. I'll inform the king, and Belegon?" the other captain looked at him, "Get as many guards as you can to help search the city. Let's move!"

Everyone nodded and raced off. Heledhon and Legolas quickly informed the king who committed more guards to the search. Heledhon and Legolas joined the search then and stared on Haldamir's route home from Naltanárie's family home. They checked several alleys and were about to give up when Legolas thought he heard something down another alley and stopped cold.

"I think I heard something," was all he said to Heledhon's confused look.

"Far be it for me to second guess your senses," Heledhon said, "Lead the way."

Legolas only glanced at him before walking slowly down the alley, the captain following close behind. Once past some barrels they saw something that sickened them both.

It was Haldamir.

He had been badly beaten and was lying in a small pool of blood. He was unconscious but thankfully alive, Heledhon saw as they kneeled next to him. Both arms were broken and a leg, and he had a lot of bruises and his eyes were swollen shut. His jaw also looked broken. A deep gash on his side that went down his leg to his knee was bleeding sluggishly.

"I'll go get some healers!" Heledhon said as he stood and raced away. While he was gone Legolas took a quick look at Haldamir's hands, frowning at what he saw. He looked up and moved away as healers arrived a few minutes later, the king and Belegon and Heledhon with them. He went next to the king and said quietly, "He didn't fight back."

Gil-galad shook his head, anger in his eyes, clearly furious as they watched the healer's work. Once he was stable they loaded Haldamir onto a stretcher and took him immediately to the palace.

Heledhon, Belegon, and Idhrenor waited outside the healing wing doors for several hours before Hadlathon came out. Legolas was out in the city, looking for clues as to who might have done this.

"How is he?" Belegon asked the tired healer.

Hadlathon smiled as he led them inside to Haldamir's bed near a window, "He will be in pain for quite a while, but he will heal. Whoever did this didn't want to kill him, this was just sending a message."

Heledhon nodded as he looked at the battered young elf, "Yes, a barbaric message. I hope he can tell us who did this when he wakes."

"That may be a while," Hadlathon said, "We had to drain some blood out of his brain to relieve some pressure that was building up. He is still sedated and will stay that way until the swelling goes down. It will be a few days, maybe even a week."

The three elves stared at him a few minutes before looking to the door as the king and Legolas entered. They came immediately to Haldamir's bed, looking him over quickly before the king said, "Lord Legolas was able to track down those that did this. They are under guard right now."

"Did they say why they did this, my king?" Hadlathon asked, "Why were they so willing to beat an elf almost to death?"

Gil-galad nodded tiredly, "Apparently one of them fancied Naltanárie, and was angry she choose Haldamir instead. The others just hated him because he was a Fëanorian and was allowed to stay in this city with no restrictions."

"_That_ is why they beat him so badly?" Idhrenor said in surprise and anger, "That doesn't make any sense! He did nothing to them!"

"No, it doesn't," Gil-galad agreed, "But it is what they said," he turned to Hadlathon, "As soon as he is well enough I need him to identify his attackers and tell his story. No one beats an elf like this in my kingdom, no matter what their background is."

"I will let you know when he is strong enough, my lord," Hadlathon said.

Gil-galad nodded, but his attention was caught as the door opened and Naltanárie and her family entered. They immediately came and Naltanárie sat down next to Haldamir's bed, clearly intending to stay until he woke up. Her family settled themselves as well to wait. Legolas sat in the window seat while Belegon left to tell the patrol what was happening and Heledhon and Idhrenor sat on a nearby bed. The king had canceled their patrol assignment until they knew Haldamir would be alright. The king had to leave but promised he would visit soon.

The healing wing settled down after that; Naltanárie never taking her eyes from Haldamir's face.

* * *

The twins, over the last several months, had settled in well in Himring. Once they had recovered from the shock of seeing their home destroyed and over the fear of living with their captors, their personalities came out in full.

More than once Mistaro was sure Maglor regretted his decision to bring them to Himring if the frown lines and him constantly asking Mistaro for remedies for headaches were any indication.

The two of them were nothing but trouble, but they were so innocent about it it was hard to get mad at them, or stay mad for that matter.

Both had a love for pranks, and with very few friends in the keep, they had nothing else to do but prank those they didn't like. No one was spared, not even Maglor and Maedhros. Not even the punishment of no dinner fazed them because Mistaro would sneak them something when no one was looking. And since no one cared what he did or where he went, it was easy for him to help the twins.

In thanks, the twins would spare him and not prank him, and they never pranked Maeassil. They instinctively knew not to cross her.

Aside from the pranks, the twins had settled in rather well. Mistaro and Maeassil tutored them every day, and immediately realized they were hungry for knowledge. They took in and remembered all they were taught, leading Mistaro to believe that there were future lore-masters in his presence. Both loved learning and were very quick in everything they did.

That was their Noldor side: a deep-rooted love for and desire for knowledge, but their Sinda side was just as visible.

Mistaro's herb garden had become their favorite place to play, and they often went there to climb trees and give in to their Sindar ways.

Mistaro sometimes climbed with them as well and would share knowledge with them up in those trees. He shared with them what he knew of Yavanna and her love of growing things, and Oromë's skill at the hunt. He told them about Estë's skills at healing all wounds of body and spirit, and about Ulmo's mastery of all waters.

The twins absorbed it all, eager to learn, and always eager for more. So he gave them more. He started teaching them all manner of herbs and their properties and how to tend them. He started teaching them the healing arts, sensing that both would become powerful healers in their own right.

He wouldn't know how right he was for many years.

* * *

It was mid-morning, several days after he was found when Haldamir started to stir. For days he had lain completely still, almost comatose, but now his brain was healed enough. The swelling around his eyes was also down, and he could open them, which he did.

When he did he was treated to the sight of Naltanárie looking at him, waiting for him to acknowledge her, which he did. He smiled as best he could, and she returned it with tears in her eyes, whispering quietly, "Thank the Valar," placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He swallowed dryly then and whispered, "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"It's too late for that, young one," Naltanárie's father appeared in his line of sight, Hadlathon next to him and watching him closely, "You scared all of us for a while."

Haldamir winced slightly, "Sorry," he whispered dryly.

Hadlathon spoke then, "We can discuss this later. I need to check your responses, Haldamir, and see if there is nerve damage. Then I would like you to try and eat something. It has been a few days since your last meal."

Haldamir nodded, finding himself suddenly hungry, and did as he was told throughout the exam. Some of it hurt, but he could tell Hadlathon was pleased with the results.

"Your nerves weren't damaged at all," he said, "The miracle of all miracles. You will be stuck in bed for a while but you will mend fully, in time."

Everyone there breathed a sigh of relief at those words, then Hadlathon said, "The king wants to know what happened, Haldamir, whenever you are ready to talk to him."

Haldamir nodded, "I don't remember much, but I will tell him what I know and remember."

"That's all he wants," Heledhon said from the bed next to Haldamir's, "He wants honesty more than anything in a story like this. Just tell him everything you know and it will be fine."

Haldamir nodded as best he could, then the conversation moved on to other, lighter topics as the elves gathered there teased Haldamir and Naltanárie about when they would be getting married and if and when they would have children.

The two of them took in the teasing with humor, enjoying the love and companionship that was shared and being shared with them.

It was a relaxing and refreshing change of pace.

The king eventually came and got what bits and pieces Haldamir remembered before leaving once more, and the teasing started again as soon as he left.

But the teasing was always kind, and they all enjoyed it.

* * *

Elsewhere in Mithlond, a lone elf quietly opened a large chest, taking the contents out one item at a time as he tried to find some peace. But it eluded him that night, and every night after, as he knew in his bones the twins were alive and out there somewhere.

And he would always believe that even if everyone else told him it was impossible and the twins were dead.

And he would always believe it, until the twins came back to him.

* * *

Translations:

Adar/ada – Father/daddy  
Naneth/nana – Mother/mommy


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here's chapter 7! Please enjoy and I hope you like it! One more after this one and we are done! I hope you are as excited as I am! See you next time! Please read, review, and enjoy! 

* * *

Years passed, and soon the twins were fifteen years old. Life in Himring was somewhat difficult for them, but also simple, and they had accepted that they would stay there for a while. Nightmares of Sirion were a constant thing for a few years, but eventually, after talking with Mistaro about it they subsided a bit and the twins were able to sleep much more easily. They had been settled into rooms near Mistaro's, but he knew that they spent most of their time together, unable to stay apart or in separate rooms for very long. Elrond, deciding to be proactive about getting his father's sword back from Maedhros, would sneak into the red-haired elf's room at night and sleep there sometimes, trying to get the elf used to having the half-elf in his room at night. It was even starting to work a bit, and Elrond knew that eventually, he would be able to get his father's sword back when they left. Their new home was a difficult world to navigate without losing oneself, and they were always looking for support from anyone until they were ready to leave. Himring was only a temporary stop for them, just as it was for Mistaro.

It would not be permanent. This wasn't their home, and they didn't belong.

It was never made more clear when they tried to make friends with the warriors and were shunned instead, and Maedhros ignored them almost completely, although in recent years he was starting to come around to them and would even give them some well-timed advice every now and then. The few children in the keep were somewhat worse, and so the twins could often be found playing alone in the garden Mistaro had created or the stables, learning about the horses and helping taking care of them. Not even Colinde's daughter played with them, believing her father when he said the twins were not worth her time to play with. Not even her mother could convince her to give the twins a chance.

They didn't exist as far as the majority of the keep was concerned.

With Maglor it was different and in a somewhat good way. He always made time for them, and would sometimes sing for them. He taught them what he could of music, but eventually, those sessions turned into lessons about other topics and discussions, usually between himself and Elrond. The young elf made connections during his lessons that no one else had thought of before, and was always eager to discuss them at length with anyone that would debate with him.

Elros would sit on the sidelines, watching the show as Maglor and his brother debated everything from what happened in Aman to the different mixtures that went into making swords. The topics were diverse and endless, and the debates amusing.

But there was always a sense of brutality there and a lot of the abuse was directed at Mistaro, still, after all those years of serving as a healer for the Fëanorians. It was never more clear then when the twins came to the healing wing for a lesson and found Mistaro picking himself up off the floor. Broken pottery and spilled liquids were around him, as well as blood.

"Múldir!" Elros exclaimed, racing over and helping the healer sit on a nearby bed, Elrond right behind him.

"Are you alright?" Elrond asked, already knowing it was a stupid question. The glance Elros shot him seemed to confirm it.

Mistaro nodded shakily, a hand over part of his chest, "I will be, once I bind these ribs. Can you get me some bandages?"

Elros nodded and left for the supplies closet, while Elrond helped Mistaro out of his shirt. Once free of the shirt, Elrond gasped at what he saw. Mistaro's chest and stomach were covered in bruises, and so was his back. His lip was split and there was a cut on his arm that was bleeding sluggishly.

A cut too clean to have been made by anything other than a dagger.

"What happened, Múldir?" Elrond asked as Elros returned with the bandages and everything needed to suture the cut closed.

Mistaro shook his head, "Only a difference of opinion between myself and another," at their dubious looks he elaborated: "Colinde's husband was of the opinion that there is something between myself and her. There isn't, but he didn't believe me. Normally I can handle him on my own, but today he brought friends."

The twins nodded unhappily and were silent as they helped Mistaro tend his wounds. Once they were finished though Elrond said, "You should tell Maglor about this, Múldir. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with this."

"We'll stand by you," Elros volunteered.

Mistaro smiled slightly as they helped him into a clean shirt, "I appreciate that, young ones, but it won't change anything, and may make matters worse."

"How could it be worse?" Elros asked, "They are beating you for no reason!"

"It's not just that, is it?" Elrond asked softly and suddenly, his silver eyes on Mistaro's face. Mistaro looked at him then, and Elrond continued, "There is something more, something you are hiding from us."

Mistaro stared at him a long moment before slowly nodding. Elrond immediately pulled up a chair, Elros choosing to sit on a nearby bed. Once they were settled Mistaro sighed as best he could with bruised ribs, "I was hoping never to tell you this, or at least wait until you were a bit older."

"Tell us what, Múldir?" Elros asked.

Mistaro hesitated and Elrond asked, "Múldir isn't your real name, is it?"

Mistaro stared at him, clearly surprised he had noticed such a thing and Elrond shrugged, "I noticed that sometimes you don't respond to it, or it catches you by surprise. I thought that maybe your attention was elsewhere, but that isn't it, is it?" his eyes never leaving Mistaro's.

Mistaro stared at him a moment longer before slowly shaking his head, "You are too perceptive, Elrond. But it is a good thing if you want to be a healer to be perceptive. You are right," both twins looked at him expectantly, "My name is not Múldir. That name is a cruel reminder that I am less than everyone here. Even less than you."

The twins looked at each other before Elrond asked, "What is your real name?"

Mistaro smiled slightly, "Mistaro, son of Laurorno and Indilien."

Elros shook his head, "I'm confused. Why are you living here under a different name? Where are you from?"

Mistaro smiled again, "The different name is because of Maedhros. He wanted me to always remember there is no escape from here, even if someone from the outside came here and recognized me. He could just say that that person was mistaken and I was someone else. At least, there is no escape for me. I think you two will make it. As for where I'm from?" Mistaro stopped a moment, staring off into the distance. The twins waited not-so-patiently for him to speak, wondering what he was going to say.

Eventually, he spoke: "I am from Gondolin, originally. I was born there, I lived there. I eventually worked into being the chief healer there. I counted _Aran_ Turgon and his family among my friends, and several of the lords there were close friends. I knew your father, when he was very young," the twin's eyes widened in surprise and Mistaro smiled before continuing, his smile quickly fading away, "We never left our city, only leaving once for the _Nírnaeth Arnoediad_. When we came back King Turgon ordered none to leave or enter, and that was how it was until Tuor came. He had a warning from Ulmo, but the council was divided. Some believed that the city could never be found, others did. I thought it would be best to heed Tuor's warning and said as much, but the king trusted the words of his nephew Maeglin and so we stayed. Tuor married Idril and they had Eärendil, and Maeglin started plotting against them."

He stopped a moment to take a breath before continuing, the twin's entire attention on him, "While Maeglin plotted, we were unaware. I went about my responsibilities as I had always done, until one day Tuor came to me. He bade me to go with him and I did. He showed me a tunnel in his home he and a few trusted followers were digging. It was then I knew the city would be attacked," Mistaro sighed sadly then, "They came during the Gates of Summer celebration. While everyone gathered to greet the sun on the eastern wall, they came from the north. By the time the alarm could be raised, it was too late. Maeglin had betrayed us to Morgoth with the promise he would get Idril, your grandmother, as his wife. He never did and died that day at Tuor's hand."

"What happened next?" Elros asked, eyes on Mistaro's face. Elrond was similarly focused, and Mistaro smiled inwardly. These two loved stories almost as much as he liked telling them.

He continued: "Because of Tuor and Idril's foresight, many escaped through their tunnel that day. I was able to get my family to safety that way, and many others. In the end, the city fell, as did her king and so many powerful lords, but many escaped because of the king's daughter and her husband. We escaped into the Encircling Mountains, with Legolas of the House of the Tree leading the way. His senses were the sharpest of any elf I have ever met, and he was my good friend. Taking up the rear was what warriors remained of the House of the Golden Flower, and their chief Glorfindel. He was a close friend as well; my younger sister had been calling him "uncle" as soon as words came to her lips," both twins smiled at that and so did Mistaro.

Mistaro's smile faded then as his story turned tragic: "We were followed by a Balrog into the mountains. Ecthelion of the Fountain had been able to slay the lord of all Balrogs, Gothmog, in the Courtyard of the King, but this one was no less terrible. He fought with Glorfindel, and they slew each other in that fight. I saw it all. A Great Eagle flew into the crevasse they had fallen into and came up with Glorfindel's body. We buried him, but then had to continue on our way, desperate to get to the coast. None of us knew we were being watched."

"Watched?" Elros asked in confusion, "By what? Orcs?"

Mistaro shook his head, "No, not orcs. One night, after we had left the mountains, I went to Legolas who was guarding the camp. He let me wander a ways from camp to clear my head, but I had only just gone out of sight when I was hit on the head. I woke up tied to a tree; the Fëanorians nearby. Apparently, their last healer had been killed and they were desperate for another one, and so they took me. I doubt my family and friends, or my fiance, know what happened to me. The guards probably found no sign of me."

"Fiance?" Elrond asked, unable to believe the story he was hearing.

Mistaro nodded and smiled, and it instantly made him seem younger, if that was possible, "Quildolorë. She was one of the Golden Flower; golden hair and blue eyes. We were going to be married during the Gates of Summer, but it never happened."

The twins were silent for many long minutes as they processed what they had heard, but then Elrond said, "I think I remember your family from Sirion. Quildolorë lived with them since she had no other family and didn't want to be alone. Your sister sometimes looked after us, I think. They went to Mithlond to see family before Sirion was attacked."

Mistaro smiled sadly, "I am glad you could know them, however briefly it was."

Elrond nodded, while Elros said, "You shouldn't be treated like this Mistaro. Let us go to Maglor and make it right. They've taken enough from you!"

Elrond nodded in agreement, but Mistaro shook his head, "It won't accomplish anything. I have tried before, even Maeassil has tried, and nothing has worked. Maglor will always take the word of Colinde's husband over me," he looked closely at the twins then, "Don't go asking for trouble like that, young ones, it won't be worth it. Colinde's husband will just take it out on you."

"We know how to fight," Elros said stubbornly, which was true. Maglor and Maedhros had started training them to wield sword and bow, and they were both very good at it. In time they may even best the sons of Fëanor in swordplay, but it wouldn't be for a while longer.

Mistaro arched an eyebrow, "And an elf fighting an elf is the right thing to do?" both twins ducked their heads, remembering Sirion, and Mistaro continued, "Don't go looking for trouble, young ones. While I don't like it, I know I will not stay here much longer. As do you, I think."

Elrond glanced at him while Elros refused to make eye contact. That was all the confirmation Mistaro needed, "You have Foresight, don't you? And are already having visions and premonitions, aren't you?"

"How do you know?" Elrond asked quietly.

Mistaro smiled, "Your foremother was Melian, a Maiar of Estë. You likely have some of her healing abilities as well. My father is a Noldor from Valinor, but my mother is Silvan. She gave up much to be with my father," as the twins looked at him in surprise, "Her mother was Silvan, but there is an air of mystery around her father. Some said he was a spirit of the world, others a Maiar. Either way, he was a powerful lord in his own right."

"You have foresight, too?" Elrond asked hesitantly.

Mistaro shook his head, "No, I don't. But all elves get these "feelings" when something is about to happen. Mine are just a bit stronger and I've learned to listen to them."

Both twins nodded again, and then Mistaro was standing up, the twins standing as well, "Well.…we might as well start our lesson. There is no point in wasting the day."

"What about Colinde's husband, and Maglor?" Elros asked.

"Leave it alone, El," Elrond said, "If Mistaro doesn't want to, we can't force him to talk to Maglor about Colinde's husband."

"It's not right," Elros grumbled, and Mistaro smiled sadly before saying, "No, it isn't. But you forget, I am a healer. I can make his life very miserable very easily. I can be very petty when there is a need for it. Don't worry about it."

Elros nodded unhappily, then they all went outside to start their lesson on gathering and drying herbs. A few days later Colinde's husband spent the entire day vomiting, and Colinde had absolutely no sympathy for him, knowing also what had happened between him and Mistaro and knowing he needed to learn a lesson.

The twins had enjoyed seeing such a thing, and Mistaro had smiled as well.

Throughout the years at Himring, they would always call him Mistaro, even when Maedhros tried to make them stop. Eventually, he gave up, and their friendship with the former chief healer of Gondolin became even stronger as he taught them all he knew.

It would stand them in good stead later in life. 

* * *

Gil-galad's newest maid, Elmendië, was following Merilinel around as they went about their duties, learning about her new responsibilities. They were talking about Haldamir and Naltanárie's wedding the day before and how much fun it had been. There had been a grand feast and everyone had danced for hours and hours the night before. Half the city was still nursing the headaches from all the wine they had consumed the night before.

Years after he had been nearly beaten to death because of jealousy and hatred, Haldamir was a respected and loyal warrior in the ranks of Gil-galad's army, swearing an oath to Gil-galad during his wedding.

The ones that had beat him so badly had been sent to Eregion, where Celebrimbor had dealt with them severely. They would never be allowed back in Mithlond until they had learned a lesson or two about compassion and humility. Haldamir may have forgiven them, but the king had not. He did not look kindly upon those that beat another elf because of jealousy or hatred.

Elmendië and Merilinel were still talking excitedly about the wedding when Quildolorë appeared, looking distressed about something. Both she-elves immediately stopped talking and laughing and Elmendië asked, "What is wrong Quildolorë? You look upset."

She nodded, unable to find the words she needed. Merilinel decided there was only one thing to do: "Let us sit down a moment. You clearly have something on your mind."

Quildolorë nodded again, and once they were seated on a nearby settee she closed her eyes for a long moment, palms pressed together before taking a deep breath and saying, "I have a suitor," opening her eyes to see their reactions.

Both she-elves were shocked; Elmendië completely unable to speak. Merilinel got over her shock a bit more quickly. Even then, her questions still didn't make much sense: "What…? How...you…?"

Taking pity on her Quildolorë answered her garbled question: "His name is Arodon. He is a councilor to the king and very sure of himself and his charm. I am having a hard time figuring out what to do."

Elmendië found her voice then, "What is there to do? Tell him you are already engaged! Half the city already knows this!"

"Yes," Quildolorë agreed softly, "To an elf they have never seen or met, and who only a handful of people still living know anything about. The rest are convinced I am making him up. Arodon is in the latter half."

"Seriously?!" Elmendië exclaimed, "Does he think my parents and I are making my brother up? He is real, not a figment of our imagination!"

"Arodon wouldn't be so disrespectful by saying so out loud," Quildolorë said softly, "But he does think so, and nothing I say can convince him otherwise. That's why I came to you. I need your help to convince this councilor to leave me alone. My heart only and always will belong to Mistaro. I was hoping you had some ideas before I went to the king," at Merilinel's look of surprise and some consternation she nodded, "Yes, his advances are getting that extreme. Do you have any ideas? I am at the end of my tether, so to speak."

"We could tell my father," Elmendië suggested, "He would be more than willing to put this councilor in his place."

"Yes, but would it make him stop?" Merilinel asked her, lapsing into thought a moment before snapping her fingers, "There is someone this councilor is actually afraid of that we all know. A close friend to Mistaro and you, and one that has no tolerance for fools," at their confused and slightly anticipatory looks she said the name that would end Quildolorë's problem: "Lord Legolas."

"Of course," Quildolorë breathed, "Lord Legolas has no tolerance for anyone who disrespects Gondolin, and not acknowledging Mistaro's existence is the worst thing anyone could do in his opinion."

"Let's go talk to him right now!" Elmendië said excitedly, "Our duties are done for the day anyway."

The others nodded and quickly left the palace, going swiftly to Legolas' home near the center of the city. When they arrived Elmendië knocked on the door before stepping back a pace. The door opened a moment later, revealing Lord Legolas. He hid his surprise at seeing them very well and only asked, "My ladies, is there something I can help you with?"

Quildolorë answered, "We were wondering if we could have a few moments of your time, my lord? There is something we would like your assistance with, if you are willing."

Legolas nodded slowly before moving aside and saying, "Please, come in."

They entered and he shut the door before leading them to a small room that had several chairs and a table. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, and the window drapes were drawn back to let in the afternoon sun. A bookshelf stood nearby with books and scrolls carefully organized. Once they were all seated Legolas asked, "What is the problem?"

Quildolorë was quick to explain her problem and that she wasn't sure what to do, and Legolas listened carefully and silently with interrupting. Once she was finished he said, "I will certainly speak with this councilor for you, my lady. You are engaged, that does not change because no one outside those that survived Gondolin have ever met Mistaro. I will sort this out for you immediately, you have my word."

"Thank you, my lord," Quildolorë said as she stood up, "I will be grateful for anything you can do."

"I'll have it done in the next few days, never fear," Legolas said as he walked them to the door. After the farewells had been said and the she-elves had left Legolas leaned against the door for several long moments.

He was still unsure, after all these years, if he should mention the voice from during the Sacking of Sirion. The king had agreed to keep silent about what he thought he had heard, but Legolas sometimes wondered if he should say something. Quildolorë and Mistaro's family deserved some peace from the rumors and gossip, but he didn't think telling them would help.

Even if it had been Mistaro and he _was_ a prisoner of the Fëanorians, there was nothing they could do to help him. No one with any degree of sense would try to negotiate with Maedhros, and Maglor was always bendable to his brother's will. Marching an army against them would be equally unproductive and would just cause another Kinslaying. It wasn't worth it to save just one elf.

As far as Legolas was concerned one Kinslaying was too much, and there had already been three. He didn't want to be responsible in any way for a fourth. If Mistaro _was_ still alive he would never forgive Legolas for causing more death.

With a sigh, Legolas stopped leaning against the door and went deeper into his home. Haldamir had moved out to live with Naltanárie in a new home her father and Legolas had helped build alongside her brothers, and now he was alone in his home.

Legolas left a few minutes later, deciding that perhaps Haldamir might have some ideas about that councilor, and coming up with ideas with him would take his mind of Mistaro for a bit. The young elf had learned how to stop rumors before they could spread too far, as well as turn away people that meant him ill with only words.

Perhaps he had some ideas about Quildolorë's unwelcome suitor.

With a deep breath, Legolas went to find out, almost eager to put that councilor in his place. He really needed something to do, he realized as he walked. Once finished with the councilor he would speak to the king about a task he could do to occupy his time.

He was ready for another task to keep him occupied, now that Haldamir had left to start a home and family of his own. Now it was time for Legolas to move onto the next chapter in his life after he dealt with that councilor.

This should be interesting, to say the least. 

* * *

Haldamir did indeed have some good ideas, and the council was easily dealt with. Just as a precaution Legolas mentioned what happened to the king just so he could make sure the councilor didn't step out of bounds.

He didn't, and Legolas was almost disappointed. He had been looking forward to teaching that elf the importance of manners and consideration for another's pain.

With words, of course. Not with his fists. That would have been extremely unproductive, not to mention in poor taste.

Quildolorë had thanked him afterward, and soon life in Mithlond settled into a regular routine for Legolas as Gil-galad allowed him to start teaching recruits in swordplay and woodcraft.

A routine that wouldn't be broken for many years to come. 

* * *

Three decades later, Mistaro was returning to the healing wing after lunch when he heard a commotion from outside in the courtyard. Assuming one of the horses had escaped or was causing trouble he thought nothing of it as he walked.

It could have been the twins causing mischief in the courtyard for all he knew. They may be reaching their majority, but still behaved mischievously when the mood struck them.

Over the years they had grown into responsible and well-rounded elves. They had been taught everything the Fëanorians could teach them in history, literature, the arts, and weapons. Both were so skilled in weaponry the sword-master had said there was nothing else he could teach them. Maedhros had said fighting left-handed was a skill they might need, though, and had Halon start teaching them the day before. As for as Mistaro knew Elrond was doing well learning it, but Elros was having some difficulty.

He would figure it out, of that Mistaro was certain.

Mistaro was also pleased with how they had proven themselves against orcs. They had gone on several patrols, alone and together, and performed well. It didn't mean the warriors treated them any differently, but they weren't treated any worse. The twins didn't pay any attention to the insults and jabs either way.

Their healing talents had also greatly improved, and both were natural healers. There wasn't much they didn't understand about healing, and what they didn't understand they figured out very quickly. Even Mistaro was running out of things to teach them, and _they_ were starting to teach _him_ what they had discovered.

Mistaro's musings were cut short suddenly and loudly as the healing wing doors were suddenly thrown open. Maedhros entered first, looking _worried_ of all things, and Mistaro's guard immediately went up.

Maedhros _never_ looked worried.

Behind him came Elrond, looking almost frantic, but also scared. Mistaro immediately became more nervous and worried; Elrond looking anything other than calm and collected meant there was something extremely wrong.

Behind Elrond came Maglor and Elros; Maglor holding Elros' right hand in both of his and refusing to let go. Elros was pale and staring at his hand, and it was only then that Mistaro saw that his hand was wrapped in a handkerchief stained red with blood. Blood was dripping onto the ground as well.

"What happened?!" Mistaro exclaimed as he went to help Elros sit on a nearby bed. Elros didn't answer and only winced as Maglor sat with him, not letting go of his hand for even a second.

Maedhros answered, "It was an accident. Halon's sword caught him and he wasn't fast enough to pull away."

Mistaro didn't believe that for a moment, knowing there was a grudge between the twins and Halon, but he wasn't sure about what. He doubted the twins even knew what it was about.

He said nothing about it, only knelt in front of Elros, and said gently, "Let me see, Elros."

The half-elf said nothing at first, but then slowly nodded. Mistaro reached out, holding Elros' hand as Maglor loosened his grip enough to allow Mistaro to pull away the handkerchief. He did so and was automatically sickened by what he saw. Halon's sword had somehow gotten between Elros' middle and ring finger and cut all the way to his wrist. Mistaro could just make out bone visible through the blood, which welled up suddenly as the pressure was eased. Mistaro quickly put the handkerchief back then said, "Elrond, come hold this a moment. I need to talk with Maglor and Maedhros."

Elrond immediately came forward and took Maglor's place, holding his brother's hand just as Maglor had done.

Maglor stood then and followed Mistaro outside, Maedhros close behind. Once there Mistaro cut right to the heart of the matter: "That wound is too serious for me to heal."

"How hard can it be?" Maedhros asked, "Just stitch it back together."

Mistaro shook his head, "It's not that simple. Some nerves and ligaments and muscles have been cut in two. Even if I stitch the muscle back together, the nerves won't mend. Some of them are thinner than a strand of hair; I wouldn't be able to fix them."

"There is no way to heal this?" Maglor asked.

Mistaro shook his head, "None that I...know...of..." trailing off as he saw something and an idea formed in his mind.

Confused, the sons of Fëanor looked in the same direction Mistaro was staring in. All that was there was a weed Mistaro had planted when he had first started the garden and not used since. Neither Son understood why he had planted it but hadn't questioned it. That had been their promise when they had allowed Mistaro to start the healing wing over when he first came there. Mistaro walked over to the weed and kneeled down, taking hold of one of the stems as he thought. Finally, Maglor asked, "What are you thinking?"

Mistaro shook his head then gently cut some stems of the plant before turning and facing them. He said, "I can't help Elros, but perhaps his brother can."

"What does that mean?" Maedhros asked.

"They are both children of Melian, a Maiar of Estë the Lady of Healing," Mistaro said, "Which means that they may have some of her healing abilities. _Athelas_ will strengthen and focus them, I think."

"You think?" Maglor asked dubiously.

Mistaro nodded tiredly, "Yes, I think. I have never seen this done before and am going off the rumors I have heard and the stories my mother told me of Melian. Hopefully, it will be enough," heading back inside as he said this.

Maglor and Maedhros looked at each other before following him inside. Once there they only listened as Mistaro said to the twins, "There isn't much I can do for your hand, Elros. Even if I stitch it back together, the nerves are damaged. You will never be able to hold anything ever again."

"There isn't anything you can do?" Elros asked fearfully.

Mistaro shook his head, "No, there isn't. But maybe your brother can do something for you."

Elrond looked at him sharply and Mistaro continued, "You both have the blood of Melian in you, which means that perhaps you have some of her abilities as well. I can do nothing to repair the nerve damage in your hand, but perhaps your brother can."

"How?" Elrond asked, already thinking over how it was possible and what he could do to help his brother.

Mistaro sighed, "That I don't know. That ability I do not have, and here I cannot guide you. All I know is that this should help you," opening his hand and revealing the _athelas_ there.

Elrond froze, staring at the plant, before slowly nodding. He only said, "I need hot water," eyes still distant and voice slightly hollow, as if it wasn't just him speaking. As if someone else was telling him what needed to be done and he wasn't fully aware of what was happening around him.

Mistaro nodded and went to retrieve the water while Elrond had his brother lie down on the bed, Maglor and Maedhros forgotten in the corner. Elros didn't protest, seeming to know that nothing he said would convince his brother to change course, and likely hoping that his brother could help him.

Mistaro returned with water in a large bowl and placed it on the table near Elrond. Elrond said nothing, or even nod, his mind lost to his instincts. He took the _athelas_ from Mistaro and breathed on it gently, ignoring the red stain growing around his brother's hand. Elrond murmured over the leaves, speaking in a dialect lost before Middle-Earth was even a thought in Eru Ilúvatar's mind, then crushed the leaves and threw them in the water.

Almost immediately the room was filled with the calming scent, much stronger than it normally was. It drove away all shadow and darkness from the room, and Mistaro could feel it filling him with a sense of peace. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, opening them a moment later in time to see Elrond take his brother's hand and bend over it. He closed his eyes then and didn't move for a long moment. The scent of _athelas_ grew stronger and stronger and stronger until suddenly it started to fade away until it was gone completely.

At that same moment, Elrond collapsed and nearly fell to the ground. Mistaro, anticipating such a thing, rushed forward and caught him quickly, Maglor coming forward to help get him into a bed. Once he was settled Mistaro checked him over quickly before turning to Elros, who was only staying in bed because Maedhros had a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Peace, Elros, he is fine," Mistaro said soothingly, "Only exhausted. Once he rests and recovers his strength he will be fine."

Seeing the way Elros was not calming whatsoever Mistaro went and made a sleeping draught. He came back quickly and said, "Drink this, Elros, it will help with the pain."

Elros, surprisingly, drank it without protest, just as Mistaro knew he would. If one twin was focused on the welfare of the other they sometimes didn't pay attention to what they were being given if it came from someone they trusted. Mistaro hated having to do this, but he needed Elros calm and still so that he could finish tending his hand.

The draught worked quickly, and once Elros was unconscious Mistaro was able to assess what Elrond had done. He nodded to himself a few moments later and said, "Very good. He has done better than I expected."

"How is this good?" Maedhros asked, "He is still bleeding!" indicating the bloodstain and the still-open cut on Elros' hand. Mistaro almost smiled, Maedhros really did have a soft spot for the twins even if he would never show it. He just made it look like he didn't like them so that no one could accuse him of having a heart.

Mistaro nodded, "Yes, that is a small concern, but it is easily tended. Elrond's abilities are untested and not well-trained, something only practice can hone. But he was still able to repair the nerves and muscles. Elros won't be losing his hand in any way today. He did what I can't do, and that is enough," leaving to retrieve suture materials, herbs, and bandages.

When he came back he quickly cleaned the wound and stitched it closed, careful not to damage anything Elrond had just repaired. Once finished he bandaged the hand down to the elbow to give it some support, then propped it on a pillow. He turned to Maglor then, "It should heal fully, but it will take time. The less he uses this hand, the better."

Maglor nodded, "I will take him off the patrol roster," and Maedhros added, "I will make sure he doesn't try to train before you say so," and then left, clearly considering his work done.

"You can leave as well," Mistaro said to Maglor, "I will want to keep both of them a few days and need to get them settled."

Maglor stared at both twins a moment before slowly nodding. He left them and Mistaro was able to get both twins out of their training clothes and into comfortable sleepwear. Neither twin so much as twitched the rest of the night, which allowed Mistaro a chance to think of what might happen next with the twins and what they would do in the next chapter of their lives.

Which he did until he suddenly fell asleep. 

* * *

_A beautiful forest rose around him, and Mistaro realized it was the forest surrounding the keep and he was dreaming. A path was before him and looking behind him he realized that he was staring at the wall opposite the outer healing wing doors._

_There must be a hidden door or something leading to the outside world from the healing wing garden. _

_How had he not known?_

_Suddenly laughter caught his attention, and he whipped his head around. He _knew_ that laugh, knew it like his own heartbeat. It beckoned to him; urging him to follow it. He did so, desperate to see the one it belonged to._

_He hadn't seen her in so long._

_He followed the path through the woods, eventually stopping at a clearing. He looked around then, but instead of his lover, he saw nothing at first. He looked up at the sky and the stars, wishing to see her face, then stopped and stared as one star _moved_. It came slowly down from the heavens, stopping and hovering in front of him. _

_Mistaro was confused but had no time to question it as there was a sudden flash of light. He flinched and shut his eyes against the intensity of it, unable to look. When the light dimmed away he opened them again, shocked at what he saw. _

_There, standing before him, was an elf. An elf he almost didn't recognize, but when he saw the eyes he knew who it was. They were blue and sharp and keen, and resting on his brow was the most beautiful gem he had ever seen, one that shone with inner fire and life, and also pure light._

"Eärendil_? Is that you?!" he asked in stunned surprise._

_The half-elf nodded, "Yes, it is me. It is good to see you again, after so long. I wish we could talk longer, but our time together is short. There is something I need from you, even though I have no right to ask. You have been there for my sons when I could not, and that is a debt that can never be repaid. And now to ask more of you...I wish there was another way."_

"_I did my duty; they are the great-grandchildren of my king, and your parents were my good friends. I couldn't stand by and do nothing," Mistaro said._

_Eärendil nodded, "I know, but my debt still stands. But I hope you can still do this for me?"_

"_Anything you need, you need only ask," Mistaro said immediately._

_Eärendil smiled, "Tomorrow night after the twins are asleep, leave the keep by the way you were shown and follow the path to this clearing. There will be two horses here, twin mares. They are gifts to the twins and a way to escape this place if they so desire. The horses will know the way out of this labyrinth the Sons of Fëanor have created, and the twins will be able to leave. They are Amani and will serve the twins well, bred of the finest racer and finest jumper in Arda and Aman. Bring them to your garden and hide them until the twins are ready to leave. The twins will soon need to return to their own kin. Will you do this for me?"_

"_Yes, I will, you have my word," Mistaro said without hesitation, then asked, "Should I say who they are from?"_

"_Only if the twins ask," Eärendil said, then smiled slightly, "I am sure they will figure it out."_

_Mistaro nodded, then asked suddenly, "My garden is not very big or very deep. How will I hide these horses?"_

_Eärendil smiled mysteriously then, "The answer to that question is in you, Mistaro. Put aside the Noldor, become the Silvan inside of you. That is your way."_

_Mistaro was still confused but said nothing more on the subject. If Eärendil wouldn't tell him, he knew that nothing he said would convince the half-elf otherwise. _

_Eärendil looked up then and said, "It is almost time. Thank you Mistaro, this will not be forgotten. If there is anything you should need…?"_

_"There is one thing I wonder about," Mistaro said suddenly, and at Eärendil's nod, he continued, "My family. I don't know what has happened to them or where they are. Can you tell me anything?" _

_Eärendil smiled, "They are in Mithlond. Your parents are doing as well as can be expected, and your sister has grown into a beautiful _elleth_. She works in the palace of Gil-galad as a maid. Quildolorë still waits for you. She knows you will return, she just doesn't know when or how. She still has faith and hope. I ask you to as well," smiling at Mistaro as light began to shine in the clearing once more. _

"_I will, _Gil-Estel_," Mistaro said softly, "I will never lose hope."_

_Eärendil smiled again as he became one with the light and became a star once more. He flew back to the heavens, and as he did so a wind blew through the clearing. With it came the words: "Tell my sons they have my heart for all eternity. Tell them I love them with all my being."_

_"I will never fear," Mistaro whispered, a tear falling from his eye. _

_The moment that tear hit the ground the dream was shattered and Mistaro awoke._

* * *

__Mistaro awoke with a start, heart racing. He looked around frantically but calmed when he saw the twins were still asleep. He calmed his racing heart, then stood and went to the doors that led to the outside. He looked to the stars then and quickly found the star from his dream. It shone brighter than all the others and was somehow more beautiful than those around it.

Mistaro smiled when he saw it, then whispered, "Thank you Eärendil, for giving hope to those that might not have any left. I will do as you asked," with that he turned and went back inside, resolving to read a book for the rest of the night while he waited for morning.

Overhead Eärendil stood silent watch. 

* * *

Morning came quickly, and with it, the twins awoke. Elrond was awake long enough to confirm his brother would heal and instantly fell back asleep, while Elros was awake and alert almost immediately. He was able to stay still long enough for Mistaro to change the bandages, but before he could start talking Mistaro said, "Your hand should heal well so long as you don't do anything strenuous, so be careful with it," Elros nodded, then Mistaro asked, "What did it feel like?"

Elros immediately knew what he meant, "It was like a warmth, just driving the pain away. I didn't feel anything else but that warmth and the feeling stayed in my hand for several minutes afterward. When it left the nerves came alive in my hand, and that's all I remember."

Mistaro nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Maeassil will be along soon with something for you to eat. I want you to eat everything she gives you, understood?"

Elros nodded and Mistaro smiled slightly before leaving to dispose of the old bandages. When he returned he saw that Elros was thinking deeply about something. He then said, so softly he must have thought Mistaro wouldn't hear it: "I don't think I want to stay here any longer."

Mistaro gave no indication that he heard the young elf, knowing that he and his brother would need to come to a decision on their own without anyone telling them what they should do, not what they wanted to do.

And when they did finally decide what to do he would be ready to help them as best he could. 

* * *

That night, after the twins were asleep, Mistaro slipped outside and went into the garden. As he walked he couldn't help but feel doubtful about hiding two horses in there. The garden was maybe, at most, fifty paces by sixty.

There wasn't a lot of space for two mares to stay hidden.

And he didn't know what Eärendil had meant about surrendering to his Silvan side. That was still a mystery to him. Mistaro shook his head then, deciding to tackle this whole night one obstacle at a time. He still needed to find the secret door out of the keep.

He was at the back wall quickly but found nothing, at first. Then he saw a small seam around a brick, which led him to look more closely at the nearby parts of the wall and find another seam in the shape of a door. He went back to the brick and pulled it out as quietly as he could, revealing a door handle. He reached in and pulled it down, hearing a few clicks inside the wall before the door opened on well-oiled hinges. It might have been more than half a century since this door was used last, but it still worked just as silently as the last time it had been used.

Mistaro left the keep then, leaving the loose stone in the door so that he wouldn't have to struggle opening it in the dark with two horses behind him eager to get inside. Sure enough, there was a path there that led out from the door into the forest, and he followed it carefully while keeping an eye out for orcs or other dangers.

He was well aware that the Fëanorians guarded their lands well, but it never hurt to be careful.

The path, as in his dream, led him deep into the forest and eventually he started to get close enough to the clearing to hear movement ahead. Nickers, snorting, and quiet squeals were just audible over the night sounds of the forest and were getting louder the closer he came.

Surprisingly Mistaro felt anticipation building inside of himself, almost eager to see the horses Eärendil and possibly Elwing were giving to their sons. Finally, Mistaro arrived at the clearing and was instantly amazed at what he saw.

The mares were indeed twins, identical twins. They almost glowed in the moonlight, their coats a beautiful silver with shimmering silver dapples over their haunches and back legs. Their heads were delicately crafted and almost dainty; dished foreheads, large eyes and nostrils, and small muzzles. The large nostrils clearly were meant to breathe in great gulps of air as they ran, giving them plenty of speed and endurance. Every line of their bodies seemed to be carved from marble, and they looked supple and strong. Both stood taller than him at the shoulder and he knew instantly that these horses would be a challenge to ride. Muscles rippled under their skin with life, and Mistaro could see that though these horses were large, they were lightly built. They would race quickly once given the chance and allowed their heads.

They were playing with each other, shaking manes and swishing tails of pure silver when Mistaro finally got over his shock of seeing them and took a few steps into the clearing. Immediately, both mares froze and looked at him, sizing him up. It only lasted a few moments before one mare nickered and trotted over, greeting him with nuzzles and quiet sounds before nudging his hand, eager for attention.

He gave it willingly, running his hand over her silky-soft coat and mane before looking into her eyes. Now that she was closer he could see that both mares had striking blue eyes that gleamed with intelligence.

He smiled then, "Hello, beautiful one. It is nice to meet you," the mare bobbed her head before looking over her shoulder and snorting at her sister. This mare came forward finally, and instantly Mistaro knew this mare was less friendly than her sister. Her ears were pulled back and she made no attempt to be friendly. All the same, he was able to greet her as well before saying, "Now all I need to do is hide you until the twins decide what to do. That should be an interesting experience. For now though," he looked at the sky, "We should go before the sun comes. If you aren't hidden by morning this will have been for nothing."

The mare snorted and shook her head before turning away and walking over to the other side of the clearing, looking over her shoulder when she got there. Mistaro followed warily, but relaxed and even smiled when he saw what the mare was showing him.

Eärendil had thoughtfully provided tack for the horses; saddles and bridles and other bits of equipment. There were even saddlebags, all empty. Coming closer Mistaro could see that everything was sorted into two sets. One set had an extremely light bit and the piece of leather that went across the forehead had light blue diamonds decorating it. The saddle that accompanied it also had a few blue diamonds as well down the saddle horn and the sides. The other saddle and bridle had much the same, only instead of blue diamonds, there were light green emeralds and a slightly heavier bit.

Mistaro looked at the mare then, "You know which belongs to who, right?" the mare nodded and Mistaro smiled slightly, "That's good to hear. Let's go," reaching forward and collecting all the equipment. Whoever had left it had set it up so that each set could be carried in one hand.

Mistaro led the way out of the clearing, the mares following close behind. They walked quickly down the trail and were soon back at the keep. The stone lodged in the door was still in place, and he held the door open with his body as the two mares walked inside. Once they were in he entered as well and put the tack against the wall before shutting the door firmly and replacing the stone.

Once that was finished he turned and looked at the two horses, already knowing this was going to be difficult. Both mares were large and clearly stood out in a dark forest. There was no way to hide them easily in his small grove of trees. Mistaro sighed and put his head in his hands, sliding down the wall and sitting heavily on the ground.

A gust of warm air that smelled, surprisingly, of the sea and windswept coasts, caused him to look up. The ill-tempered mare was there, ears still pulled back but eyes full of concern as she nudged him. He smiled, "I'm alright, pretty one. I'm just trying to think of a way to hide you. Eärendil said to give myself to my Silvan side, and I somewhat understand what he means, but I still don't know what to do."

The mare snorted and shook her head before walking away, leaving Mistaro there to think. He let his mind wander where it may, and eventually his mind drew up memories of his childhood. Of him and his mother, sitting in the grove of trees his father had planted in Gondolin for them, talking about –

Mistaro's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet, cursing himself for not remembering sooner. His mother had taught him some wood-magic; the kind that could cause several trails to appear when there was only one true path, or could create a cloudy mist around something or someone, or hide something behind an illusion of something else.

'That could work,' he thought excitedly as he turned to the two horses that were now grazing on grass but staying away from his herbs, 'It could mask the sound of them too.'

Giving himself no chance to second-guess himself he cast the magic, hoping it would work. He remembered so little of the magic his mother had taught him, he wasn't entirely sure it would work.

But when he left after saying good night to the mares and looked back, he saw nothing more than trees and bushes. The horses were completely concealed. Mistaro smiled to himself then; the spell would last as long as it took for the twins to make a decision.

With his task finished, Mistaro went inside and lay down on one of the beds, falling asleep in minutes. In the garden the horses stayed out of sight, waiting for whatever came next. 

* * *

After eating breakfast with the twins the next morning, Mistaro was asked to leave so that Maglor could speak with the twins privately. When he came back the twins were alone, talking in hushed tones. They quieted when he came over, but then Elros said, "Tell him, Elrond. He is probably the only one here that won't try to stop us."

"Tell me what?" Mistaro asked as he sat on the edge of Elros' bed.

Elrond sighed, "We have decided to leave. Maglor just asked us to consider swearing oaths to him and his brother, but I have no desire to fight elves for another Silmaril. Not after the last time," Mistaro nodded at that and Elrond continued, "We leave in two days, but we don't know how to get out of the keep without being seen or what horses we can take with us. And we will need supplies and things to take care of the horses, as well as clothing and weapons for ourselves. And neither of us are strong enough to do everything we need to before we can leave," he looked pleadingly at Mistaro then, "Will you help us?"

Mistaro was already nodding, "I will take care of gathering what you need, don't worry. You focus on recovering your strength and healing," with a glance at Elros, "I can get everything you need together. You will be ready to leave in two days, never fear."

Both twins seemed to relax almost immediately and Elros said, "Thank you Mistaro, for doing this. We are in your debt."

"No, you are not," Mistaro said firmly, "You will undoubtedly tell my family I am alive if you ever meet them, and that will be enough for me," both twins ducked their heads at that and Mistaro smiled before he stood up, "Get some rest, I will start arranging everything you will need."

He left then, leaving the twins to wonder how he was going to gather everything without getting caught, but decided not to borrow trouble. If Mistaro thought he could get them everything they needed without getting caught, who were they to second-guess him? 

* * *

Mistaro was true to his word, quietly and carefully getting everything the twins would need over the next two days. He slipped down to the smithy during the night and took tools for tending hooves and shoes, as well as brushes, combs, and hoof picks from the stables. He also took two saddle pads because none had come with the saddles. He almost took some grain but thought better of it. The mares wouldn't be able to eat it when they ran out, there was no point getting them used to it when they were traveling.

He was able to pack the tools and supplies in one of the saddlebags that had come with the horses. There were eight in total, and he filled two more with healing supplies and a suturing kit with suture material and needles. Three more were filled with clothes and socks and some jerky and dried fruit, as well as a few skins of _miruvor._ A kit to repair boots once they wore out from constant travel and exposure to the elements was also added to one of those.

The last saddlebags would be the hardest to fill, and he left those until the night the twins left. That night it was overcast and the keep shrouded in shadows. As the twins went to their rooms to dress and get ready, Mistaro went to Maedhros' study.

He listened at the door a moment before entering, glad to see it was empty. Maedhros sometimes stayed up all night drinking in his study, and it was hard to tell when he would be there. He immediately went to where Maedhros kept his maps and searched through them until he found the one he was looking for. This one was the most detailed and would help the twins find the coast or anyplace else they wanted to go.

He left the study with the map and went to Maglor's study then, collecting a few books he thought the twins might want to read. They were the ones Maglor had refused to let them read because they detailed the destruction of Doriath and Sirion from his point of view, but ones they should.

He left the study and almost collided with Elros. The young elf was dressed for travel in a tunic and jerkin, strong trousers, and black boots, as well as a long cloak. He was ready for whatever adventure came next. A glove was fitted over the bandages on his right hand, while the left one was bare. A quiver and bow were secured to his back, and there were a sword and daggers on his belt.

But what really surprised him was that Elros was holding two white kittens in his hand. They were small but Mistaro could see they had been weaned. At his look, Elros whispered, "Alassindë wouldn't let us leave without taking them. She was ready to howl bloody murder."

Alassindë was a white barn cat that had bonded with the twins and kept them company quite a bit, so it was only natural that she would want the twins to have something to remember her by when they left. She had a mind of her own, no question, and would not tolerate being told that something she wanted couldn't or wouldn't happen.

Mistaro only raised an eyebrow before smiling slightly, "She certainly has a mind of her own. Come on, we need to get downstairs before someone sees us."

Elros nodded and hurried after him. Once downstairs they immediately went to the healing wing, where Elrond joined them moments later dressed the same as his brother. But his sword was different than his brothers'; and Mistaro immediately recognized Hadhafang.

He looked at Elrond, who only shrugged and said, "Maedhros didn't stir once. Sneaking into his room all these years finally paid off when it counted."

"I see," was all Mistaro said on the subject, then continued, "I have gotten you the most detailed map possible as well as a few books you should read if you can. These," nodding at the saddlebags he had been packing, "are for you. There is even an empty one for those kittens," looking at them as he said this.

"Thank you for all of this, Mistaro," Elros said, while Elrond, always practical, asked, "Do you think we're ready?"

Mistaro nodded, "More ready than you have ever been in your life. You will be fine. Just remember everything you have learned, and trust each other, and you will be fine."

Both twins nodded, then Elros asked as he looked around, "I hate to ask this, but what about horses? Are we going to have to steal from the stables? The horses there will raise a ruckus if we try to take any at this time of night."

Mistaro smiled and laughed slightly before saying, "No, we won't," at their confused looks he said, "Follow me," walking out to the garden.

They did so, Elros leaving the kittens on the bed to sleep. Mistaro led them to the back of the garden, then commanded the illusion he had cast to fall.

It did so, revealing the two mares. At the twin's shocked gasps he knew they were surprised and awed at what they saw. The mares, in turn, looked at them in surprise before walking forward, ears forward. The twins walked to them in a daze, running their hands over the horse's coats and taking them in. The ill-tempered one immediately went to Elrond, while her sister went to Elros and started playing with his hair.

Mistaro waited silently, and eventually, Elros turned to him, "How is this possible?"

Mistaro smiled gently, "They are a gift from beyond the sea. I don't know how they are here, but they are yours. They will help you get away from here. They are Amani and bred of the finest racer and jumper in Arda and Aman. They will not betray you or fail you while they have blood in their veins."

The twins looked at each other, communicating silently before Elrond said, "Thank you Mistaro, for everything you have done. We will never forget it."

Mistaro smiled wider then and embraced each twin. He said, fighting back tears, "Find your way in the world; do what you are meant to. That will be reward enough for me."

Both twins nodded, wiping tears away from their eyes before turning back to the horses. Elros frowned suddenly and turned back to him, "Aren't you coming with us?"

Mistaro shook his head, "No, I'm not. This is your journey, not mine. You need to decide where you belong, alone. You can't do that if I am there. Also, the Fëanorians will search hard for me if I go with you and drag all of us back here. Hopefully, they will accept that you left and not pursue you too hard. Don't worry," he said to their concerned looks, "I will be fine," he looked at the sky, "You need to go before the sun rises. I will help you tack up," walking over to the saddles and bridles.

The twins and horses followed him, and in no time at all the horses were ready to go. The ill-tempered mare was now mild as a dove with Elrond, letting him put the diamond-encrusted saddle and bridle on and adjust them both until she was comfortable. Elros did the same with his mare, the emeralds somehow seeming to glow when her bridle was secured to her head, then they went and collected the saddlebags and the kittens, who were still asleep. Once all were secure and the twins were truly ready to leave Mistaro led them to the hidden door and out into the forest surrounding the keep.

Once outside he said, "The horses know the way out of the forest. From there it will be up to you to decide what path to take."

Both twins nodded, then suddenly embrace him. After a few seconds, he returned the hug, whispering, "I am proud of both of you. Go and do what you were born to do."

They let go eventually and nodded, wiping away their tears before mounting their mares and adjusting their stirrups. Once that was done Mistaro stepped forward and rested a hand on each horse's nose as he asked, "You know who gave these mares to you, don't you?" when they both nodded he said, "I saw him in a dream one night, and he said to tell you that he loves you with everything he has and is, for all eternity."

Elros looked as though he was about to cry, while Elrond couldn't stop the tears from falling. Finally, Elros said, "Thank you, for telling us. I hope we see him, and you, again. _Namarië_."

"_Namarië_," his brother echoed.

"_Namarië_," Mistaro said, "_Galo Anor erin râd lîn, no gelin idh raid lîn a no adel len i chwest_."

The twins smiled one last time before turning their horses and disappearing into the night. Once they were gone Mistaro turned and went back inside, closing the door and replacing the stone before going to his chambers. He desperately needed to rest now, and get used to not having two rambunctious and intelligent twins around and be ready for whatever the next day would bring. 

* * *

The keep was in an uproar the next day, but when not even the best trackers the Fëanorians had could find anything Maglor called off the search. The twins had been trained too well by the Fëanorians and their own heritage to be found, and their new horses were too swift and clever. Maeassil protested but knew there was nothing she could do to convince them to look harder and well aware the twins knew how to take care of themselves.

Mistaro was questioned but said nothing that would give himself or the twins away. The twins were long gone and ready to start their next adventure as they tried to find where they belonged in the world.

Mistaro had done what he could, and now they had to do the rest on their own.

It would be interesting to hear their story the next time they met; and Mistaro _knew_ they would meet again. He knew it in his bones and almost couldn't wait for that next meeting.

It would certainly be interesting, knowing the twins, and he would be ready and waiting for it. 

* * *

Translations:

Aran – King  
Nírnaeth Arnoediad – Battle of Unnumbered Tears  
athelas – kingsfoil  
elleth – she-elf  
Gil-Estel – Star of Hope  
Namarië – Farewell  
Galo Anor erin râd lîn, no gelin idh raid lîn a no adel len i chwest – May the sun shine upon your path, may your paths be green and the breeze behind you


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: For this chapter, it might be helpful to read "To Find A Home And A Family", chapters 8 and 32 specifically, but it is not necessary. I've tried to integrate the two stories as much as possible from here, and since this is the last chapter I think it's alright. Let me know if I need to clarify anything and I will. Please read, review, and enjoy until the next story!

See you then!

* * *

Two years and many adventures later, the twins finally came close to Mithlond. But they were wary and cautious and didn't approach right away. Instead, they watched the patrols and learned what they could that way, not quite ready to reveal themselves just yet. It was only after their last close surviving kinsman in Middle-Earth, Gil-galad, came to meet their horses did they decide it was time to fully show themselves and come to the city.

After they dealt with the orcs they were currently fighting.

"Watch out!" came a cry, and Elros ducked, barely being missed by a pair of sharp hooves as they hit the orc that had been trying to sneak up on him. The orc went over the edge of the cliff they were cornered against, giving Elros a chance to see who it was that had saved him. It was his mare, Gwaereneth, almost unrecognizable with orc-blood coating her front legs.

Their well-behaved and in the case of Gwaereneth, mellow, horses became extremely fierce and protective when necessary, and they were well-trained in war. Risking a glance at the other mare Elros saw that she also was covered in blood and currently pounding in an orc's head.

There were five orcs left, and after ducking under one blade Elros was able to bring that number down to four. He swiped out at a second orc near him and caused it to jump back, giving him an opening. He took the opportunity and ran to cover his brother's back.

Elrond was very close to the cliff edge, but still holding his own very well. Which was no surprise, he had bested Maedhros before they had left Himring, and there were none yet that could best him with a blade. He grabbed the wrist of one orc and threw it over the edge, impaling another on his sword at the same time, then turned to the last two. He attacked one while Elros went after the other, and between the two of them the number of orcs dwindled down to one.

All of a sudden there was a yelp from Elrond, and Elros watched as the orc's sword left a shallow cut on Elrond's arm. Not enough to be a problem, but definitely enough to be a distraction. A distraction the orc took full advantage of. It rammed into Elrond's chest, and Elrond had no chance of keeping his balance as he was thrown over the side.

"Elrond!" Elros yelled, and distantly he heard a distressed whinny followed by pounding hooves. The orc didn't even have a chance to react as Veryafion attacked and bashed it's head in with her hooves.

Elros didn't notice what the mare was doing. His attention was already on his brother; rushing those few strides to the edge and looking over and down. At first, he feared the worst, but then he saw his brother only halfway down and on a narrow ledge. He wasn't moving, leading Elros to believe he was unconscious.

Which left him with only one option: climbing down.

Elros shook his head at how much of a plan he didn't have right now, but only turned away long enough to get their healing supplies before directing the horses to find a way to the cliff bottom and wait for them there. The mares nodded and left, heading down the trail they had seen the day before.

Once they were on their way Elros sheathed his blade, wincing as the wound on his arm was pulled and his hand started hurting again and climbed down the cliff after grabbing Hadhafang as he went. When he arrived at his brother's side he was almost afraid for the worst but relaxed when he saw his brother was still breathing. He breathed a sigh of relief, then started checking him over. A few broken ribs would be uncomfortable for a while, but they were easily set.

Bruises were forming everywhere, but what truly concerned Elros was the broken leg. It was broken in two places, and Elros had a hard time convincing the bones to go back where they belonged, but they eventually did.

Elros was just about to splint the leg with the only things they had that were remotely straight, arrows, when he felt the rock tremble slightly. Living amongst dwarves and learning from them had taught him to freeze and not move while he waited for the rock to settle. Once calmed he reached forward, which turned out to be more than the ledge could take.

It crumbled and gave way, sending Elros to the cliff bottom in a cloud of dust and falling rock.

The fall was only about twenty feet, and when the world stopped spinning Elros saw that Hadhafang had fallen as well and was lying nearby. Only then did his brain catch up to the complaints his body was sending it, and he winced and groaned as he carefully sat up.

Now he was certain he had at least bruised his ribs, but they didn't feel broken. His ankle was another matter, already feeling it swell. He moved carefully and was able to remove his boot, revealing an ankle that was clearly broken.

Elros winced, "This is going to hurt," he muttered before he set the ankle, just stopping himself from crying out. He was able to bind it with strips from his cloak and some nearby sticks, then he looked back up the cliff.

His brother was still up there.

Elros took a deep breath and let it out, then slowly levered himself to his feet, leaving his boot off for now. He again climbed the cliff, this time going up. When he finally reached the ledge he saw that Elrond hadn't moved an inch, and there was even less space to work. He didn't let it stop him though, binding the leg as best he could before looking at his brother's unconscious face and saying, "Well, Elrond, it seems we've gotten ourselves into another mess. And this time we will have to ask others for help. Those bones need a better splint."

Elrond didn't answer, not that Elros was expecting him to, and so Elros quickly grabbed his brother's arm, carefully dragging his brother's limp form over his shoulders. Once he was secure Elros began his careful climb back to the bottom. He had to stop a couple times to adjust his brother and rest his ankle, but soon they were on solid ground once more.

Elros lay his brother down a moment as he breathed, exhausted from what had just happened. The adrenaline from the fight was starting to wear off, and he wasn't finished with tending his brother yet.

At that moment there was a quiet whinny, and Elros looked up in relief when he saw the horses had made it safely to the bottom. They trotted over, and Elros stood carefully, going to Gwaereneth and getting the saddlebag full of herbs Mistaro had packed so long ago.

He took the pack back to his brother and sighed when he saw how empty it was. No herbs to really fight infection, only some poppy left to take the edge off the pain, and some root that could knock a troll out for a couple hours. There wasn't enough _athelas_ left for the both of them, Elros saw as he risked a glance at his quickly numbing left arm. The cut there was already turning black with poison and infection, but Elros knew that Elrond was in greater need of herbs. He used what he had as best he could after starting a small fire. There was a small stream with fresh water nearby, and he filled a small pot their Edain kin had given them with water before quickly making a paste to numb the pain of broken bones. He applied it to his brother's wounds, his brother stirring just as he was finished.

"Easy, Elrond," he said soothingly as Elrond opened his eyes dazedly, "Everything will be okay."

Elrond only shut his eyes tightly and moaned, and Elros' heart broke. It was clear his brother was in a lot of pain. Which left Elros making a decision he somewhat regretted, but not really. He mixed the root into the water in a waterskin and carefully raised his brother's head, saying, "Here Elrond. Have some water, it will help."

His brother willingly drank, and once he was finished Elros lay him back down, knowing that the root worked quickly. Sure enough, Elrond was asleep again within minutes, leaving Elros with no choice but to strike the makeshift camp he had set up.

He put out the fire and spread the ashes, collected both saddlebags of healing supplies, sheathed Hadhafang to his brother's belt, and collected whatever else might have fallen when they had fallen from the cliff and then the ledge. He packed everything back on the horses and somehow put his boot back on without passing out from the pain. He washed the wound on his arm with water and bound it, but knew he needed much stronger herbs to counter the poison.

As a way to stall for time and let his brother rest comfortably a few minutes longer, he went and helped the horses wash the orc-blood from their legs. They were both grateful for it, and he took the chance to check on the cats still in the saddlebag, full-grown and pure white. Both were sound asleep and Elros smiled.

Those cats could sleep through an earthquake if they wanted to.

Finally, there was nothing left to do, and Elros led Gwaereneth to his brother and asked her to kneel. She did so, and Elros was able to get his brother on her back. He mounted as well and she rose carefully before walking out of the ravine, Veryafion close behind. Once they were on their way to Mithlond Elros suddenly shook his head and chuckled, Gwaereneth's ear turning back to catch her rider's words: "What would Mistaro think of this, Gwaereneth? How would he react to all this?" his smile faded, "I wonder how he is doing. I miss him."

Gwaereneth nodded her head, missing the gentle healer as well, and Elros smiled sadly. He would guess the elven healer was still in Himring, unable to leave and missing his family terribly. Hopefully, they would be at Mithlond, and perhaps the king would have some ideas on how to reunite the healer with his family. Or maybe not, there was no way to know until they got there and actually met their cousin for the first time. Hopefully, he was a kind person, and hopefully, Círdan was there. Their uncle would vouch for them and help them, of that he was certain.

Veryafion snorted suddenly and clacked her teeth, letting out a guttural whinny. Elros immediately started listening to his surroundings, and it was then he heard what Veryafion had heard: snarls and growls, and a howl.

Wargs, coming from behind.

Elros immediately gave Gwaereneth a tap of his heels and she raced forward, her sister right behind her.

The wargs picked up their pace as well, and it was soon a race to safety.

* * *

Mistaro had settled into a new routine now that he had found that secret door. Now he would sneak out at night and explore the forest, finding the one true path out of the area almost immediately. How that would help him he didn't know yet. The rest of his time was spent with his usual responsibilities. Maeassil was still mad at him in regards to the twins, knowing he had helped them leave.

But there was nothing she could do.

The twins were beyond the reach of anyone there.

What truly concerned Mistaro was the fact Halon had left a few days after the twins and never returned. He didn't know what that meant and he was wary. He could only hope the twins took care and remembered he was trouble.

And didn't let him catch them off guard. That could be very dangerous.

* * *

The horses had been keeping ahead of the orcs for almost two days when Elros saw a field beyond the trees. He knew it was the field before the city gates and the horses knew it too.

Veryafion charged ahead and burst out of the trees, while Elros suddenly drew her sister to a halt to fight off a warg that was coming from the side. He dispatched it quickly and then they were racing to Veryafion's aid, as another warg had knocked her to the ground and was going in for the kill. His sword drawn Elros slashed the warg and forced it away, giving Veryafion a chance to get to her feet. She did so, shaking her head before taking off towards the city. Elros followed her on Gwaereneth, hearing the sounds of more wargs behind them. Only now the horses weren't restricted by the trees and started sprinting across the open plains.

The wargs couldn't keep up.

Looking at the tops of the walls revealed elves watching them, while others had arrows at the ready. Moments later the orcs and wargs were in range and arrows were flying, felling them all at the same time the gates were opened. Seeing the opening the horses went right for it, charging inside before it closed behind them.

Veryafion veered to the left and started rearing and spooking, while Gwaereneth went from a gallop to a trot and then a walk, trying to get her breathing under control. As she did so she walked to her sister and Elros reached out saying, "_Sîdh_, Veryafion."

Veryafion calmed as soon as she saw her sister and shoved her head under her sister's, shutting her eyes and breathing. Now that she had stopped running Elros could see the deep wounds to her rump, but knew he could do nothing about them at the moment. Instead, he turned to the elven captain he had seen while they were watching patrols and said, "Thank you, for allowing us entrance into Mithlond."

Before he could reply another spoke up, and Elros instantly knew that this one was trouble: "I don't see why you should be allowed to stay, Kinslayer."

Elros didn't understand at first, then remembered the only clothing he and his brother had had the mark of the Fëanorians on it.

The elven captain was quick to come back with a reply: "Thawon, enough," he turned back to Elros, "Could you lower your hood? I think it may put everyone more at ease."

Elros suddenly remembered his hood was still up, as was his brother's, so he nodded and lowered his hood. He then turned to the one that had called him a Kinslayer and said, "We are not Kinslayers."

The elf called Thawon narrowed his eyes, "Your tunics and saddle pads say differently."

Elros narrowed his eyes as well, and without meaning to his glare became even more intense. He could not stand being called a Kinslayer; it made his blood boil, "My brother and I are no more Kinslayers then you are. We were raised in Himring, that is all."

"Raised by Kinslayers is all the same to me as being one. You are not welcome here and should leave now," Thawon snapped, ignoring the way the gathered crowd had started murmuring. Only the king had the authority to throw someone out of the city as Thawon wanted to do right now.

Elros raised his eyebrows, "So you save our lives and expect us to turn around and leave? I know I have never been here before, but I know that you are not the king. I think I will wait for his judgment in this matter."

"His judgment is of no consequence in this matter. You are a Kinslayer and not welcome. Do not stay here," Thawon spat out. Behind him, Haldamir shifted but said nothing, while near him Legolas was staring at the half-elf almost like he recognized him.

But he couldn't place him yet, and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand: "….would rather be prisoners of elves than of orcs."

Heledhon was the one who answered now, "We would not have you as prisoners. We will wait for the king to make his decision, and until that time your wounds will be tended, as will your horses. Healers are on their way here right now."

The young elf nodded looking relieved, and Legolas guessed by the way he was holding himself he was exhausted and spent, as well as injured in ways they couldn't see. Who knew how long they had been chased by orcs.

A long time, judging from how exhausted their horses seemed.

"….knows where I would have tried to go," Legolas caught the last bit of the young elf's words and shook his head; he really needed to stop losing focus during conversations.

Thawon was not done spreading misery around though, "I still think you should leave, and perhaps the king will think so as well. But maybe you know the answer to a question that many have asked, ever since the last Kinslaying. Do you know the fate of Eärendil's sons, by any chance?"

Elros was shocked by the question, and his throat closed momentarily. It passed almost immediately when a voice he had been longing to hear for years asked, "What is going on here?" accompanied by elves moving to let the ancient Mariner through.

He hadn't changed at all, Elros realized numbly, and he could see shock, surprise, and then an explosion of joy in Círdan's eyes. It was then that he knew he would be safe here since the old Mariner recognized him instantly.

That was proven when Círdan asked, "Where have you been, _penneth_?"

Elros smiled grimly, "Himring, for many years. The Fëanorians raised us, but we never forgot our roots. Or…." Elros suddenly smiled much more happily, "the one who taught us how to tie ship knots."

Thawon chose just then to intrude on the moment, "What do you mean? Who are you?"

Círdan looked at him then, clearly irritated, "You are really so blind as to not be able to recognize the sons of Eärendil, even after so many years?"

The shock was seen and heard by all that had gathered there, and Elros revealed his brother's face by pulling back his hood. Suddenly the world tilted, and Elros realized he was finished. He was too exhausted to do much else.

Somehow he found himself standing on his own, Círdan and Gwaereneth holding him up, telling the grooms not to separate the mares, and then everything went black.

* * *

Mistaro was in a tree, staring up at the branches, daydreaming. It was a common thing for him to do and solidified his belief that no matter how gilded the cage, an elf shouldn't be a prisoner. He was bored out of his mind. Only memories of his family, and raising the twins, were keeping him sane. It had been a couple years since the twins had left, and he guessed that they may be at Lindon by now.

He hoped they were, as a memory of Quildolorë rose in his mind. He missed her so much it physically hurt, and he was almost tempted to use the falcon the twins had trained. He didn't though, knowing that she was there to deliver the news Himring had been overrun to Gil-galad in the hopes he would have some compassion and take them in. Orc attacks were becoming more frequent, and Mistaro knew that Maglor and Maedhros were starting to consider abandoning the keep while they still had a chance.

He could only wait and see if they made the right decision.

* * *

Many weeks later, in Mithlond, Elros sighed while talking with his brother. Elrond's leg was still broken and so were his ribs, but he wasn't paying attention to them as he listened to his brother.

"I found Quildolorë, and Elmendië is a maid in the palace. What do we do?" Elros asked desperately, "They deserve to know, more than most. So do his parents."

"Yes, they do," Elrond agreed, "But if we tell them that leaves a problem not even the king can solve: how do we free him? He was right; the Fëanorians will pursue their only healer relentlessly if he escapes. I think our only option is to wait for them to come to us, and work on separating him from them before they get here so that he can tell his story to the king and we can back it up without Maglor or Maedhros saying differently."

Elros nodded unhappily, "That still doesn't make waiting any easier. He deserves to be home, El, with the family that is still waiting for him."

Elrond smiled sadly, "And he will be. We both know it. We just have to wait for that knowing to become a reality."

Elros only grumbled and walked away to stare out the window to the east, where far away Mistaro remained, separated by all he loved by the selfishness of the Fëanorians.

Hopefully for not too much longer.

* * *

Years can feel like forever, but it was not even seven years after the twins left Himring that it was overrun. Mistaro was able to send the falcon, Mithien, on her way before they had to leave. They gathered all they could and disappeared into the night, leaving the orcs to fight over the spoils that remained.

They headed west, desperate to keep ahead of the orcs and other dark creatures that were pursuing them. And they did until a surprise encounter with a horse caused Maglor to be badly wounded. Mistaro, fighting infection in his own body from injuries sustained in the escape, could do almost nothing for the elf. His vision was skewed and dark around the edges, and he always felt sick and hot. The infections were taking their toll, as were his wounds. They were causing so much pain, especially his knee. It was dislocated, very badly, and he had not had a chance to put it back in place. Maedhros drove them relentlessly, and it wasn't long before Mistaro's own wounds got the better of him and he passed out.

What happened next was a collection of disjointed images and sounds that had no context or meaning to him. He thought he heard the twins, he thought he heard Glorfindel, but both were impossible. Glorfindel was dead and the twins were still out in the Wilds, finding their way.

The next thing he was aware of was cool water being poured down his throat and he drank eagerly. Or maybe it wasn't water, he couldn't say. It was no concern to him as the pain in his body faded away and he knew no more as a restful sleep came over him.

His last awareness was of gentle hands beginning to tend his wounds and take the pain away for good.

* * *

Once Mistaro was tended and comfortable the twins went to Elros' chambers. Once there Elros said excitedly, "Talk about good fortune! We can reunite Mistaro with his family before the Fëanorians come. It's perfect!"

Usually a bit calmer than his brother, Elrond for once was in complete agreement, "Let's tell them to meet us in the healing wing tomorrow. It will give Mistaro a chance to rest and let them be ready for the surprise of a lifetime."

"Should we tell them it is Mistaro?" Elros asked as they left his chambers.

Elrond thought a moment before shaking his head, "They may not believe us. It has been a long time, they may not want to raise their hopes until they see him with their own eyes. Let's wait. The king will want to speak with him as well, and we should tell Gil-galad what we know so that he can know the whole story."

Elros nodded and they walked quickly to the home of Mistaro's family, easily found by the grove of trees nearby. Laurorno planted trees for his family wherever they lived, knowing the Silvan blood of his family was strong and they would not be able to thrive in a city of stone.

It was already late when they had set out, but Indilien was as polite as ever when she answered the door. She didn't try to hide her confusion but agreed that she and her family would be at the healing wing the next day after lunch. The twins left then, but suddenly Elrond grabbed his brother's arm and started walking in a completely different direction. Elros put up with it for almost a minute before shaking his arm out of his brother's grip and saying, "Where are we going?"

"To Lord Legolas, he will want to know about this," was all Elrond said, and Elros nodded then, knowing the Lord of Gondolin had been one of Mistaro's closest friends. When they arrived at his home they were not surprised to see that lights were still on in the home. Everyone in the city knew that Legolas often stayed up late reading, or helping take care of Haldamir's children so that Haldamir and Naltanárie could have an evening to themselves.

Elrond secretly hoped the elf-lord was by himself; he didn't think Legolas would appreciate an audience for this. Thankfully that was the case, as Legolas opened the door at Elros' knock and was clearly alone. He looked surprised to see them, but only said, "Hello, young ones, can I help you with something?"

"No, not really," Elrond said, "We just came to speak to you about something personal to you."

Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked between them before saying, "Please, come in," moving aside to let them enter his home. The twins did so, and once he had shut the door Legolas led them to the sitting area. Once they were all seated he asked, "What is it you want to speak with me about?"

Elrond, who had agreed to speak and explain the matter earlier, began, "As you likely know, we were sent along with Heledhon's patrol to bring the Fëanorians here," at Legolas' nod he continued, "They were found, but two of their wounded needed immediate tending here, and so my brother and I brought them here, tonight."

"I admire your ability to not let the past cloud your judgment," Legolas said when Elrond paused, "But what does this have to do with me?"

Elrond winced slightly, "One of the wounded is Maglor, the other is their healer. My lord…." Elrond hesitated a moment, but at Legolas' questioning stare, he continued, "When we were prisoners of the Fëanorians, we had very few friends. The cook was one, and a cat, but the most influential was the healer. He inspired and trained both of us in the healing arts. And we understood each other. Just as the Fëanorians bullied us at times, so too did they bully him. When we were about fifteen we learned it was because he was a prisoner too."

Legolas drew in a sharp breath at that last statement, and then Elros took up the tale, "The healer was there when Sirion fell. He was the one that took care of us on the journey and kept us safe. He told us, when we were older, about how he let survivors of the slaughter hiding in his family's home know it wasn't safe to come out."

"You mean…?" Legolas asked breathlessly, unable to fully believe what he was about to say, "You mean my senses weren't playing tricks on me that day?"

Elrond smiled gently, "No, they weren't playing tricks on you. It was truly Mistaro, and he is here now."

The elf-lord was clearly shocked, and needed a moment to collect himself before saying, "He's here? In the city?"

Both twins nodded, glad to bring such good news to him, "He is in the healing wing, sedated. We had to operate to save his knee. He should be fine, in time," Elros said.

Legolas nodded faintly and was silent as he collected himself. Finally, he asked, "Did you tell his family?"

Elrond answered, "We only told them to meet us in the healing wing tomorrow after lunch. We didn't want them feeling as though we were adding to their pain or falsely raising their hopes."

"Understandable," Legolas said, "His fiance, Quildolorë, is often approached by elves who want to court her, but she turns them all down. I have had to help at times as well to fend them off. These elves don't understand her devotion to him, mostly because they believe he doesn't exist. He is only a surety in the hearts and minds of the people of Gondolin, of which there are few left."

"At least we can put that all to rest," Elros said, "If they have any decency they will leave her alone once they know Mistaro is real and here."

"Let us hope so," Legolas agreed softly, then asked, "Is the king aware of all this?"

The twins looked at each other before shaking their heads, "We were so excited about this reunion, we forgot to tell the king," Elros said apologetically.

"Go do so now," Legolas urged, "He needs to hear the story directly from you," standing as he said this, the twins following suit, "He needs to know what is the truth, now, before it can be warped and twisted by others," leading them to the door and opening it.

Elros said, "We will go tell him now; we just wanted you to hear this news directly from us."

"And I greatly appreciate it more than you know," Legolas said, "But now you need to tell the king. I will go to the healing wing tomorrow to see Mistaro after his family has had a chance to see him again after so long."

The twins nodded before bowing and leaving, disappearing into the darkness of the night. Legolas watched them leave, then went inside and shut the door. Now that the twins were gone he felt as though he had just been punched in the stomach.

Mistaro was alive! He really was!

Legolas almost couldn't believe it, but he knew the twins would never play such a cruel joke on anyone. It had to be the truth. All of a sudden Legolas found himself eager for what the next day would bring, and eager to see his old friend again.

He almost couldn't wait.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear over the city by the sea. The gulls were calling and fishing, the wind was lively, and everyone was preparing to greet the Fëanorians; some more grudgingly than others. Mistaro knew none of this when he woke in the afternoon. He was already feeling much better and knew his fever had finally let go of him. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear them, seeing the healer waiting in front of him patiently. The healer only held a draught under his nose, letting him smell it before trying to force him to drink it.

Mistaro smelled the mixture and then made eye contact with the healer. The healer smiled slightly and helped him drink; Mistaro too weak to do so on his own. Once he was finished the healer also gave him a glass of water, which Mistaro savored every drop of.

He was completely parched and almost badly dehydrated.

The healer was quick to examine Mistaro before nodding at someone standing behind Mistaro and standing; leaving him alone for a few moments. In those moments he looked around and saw Maglor unconscious near him, confirming that he wasn't in Himring anymore and he was finally free of the Fëanorians and Maedhros.

Another elf sat in the seat the healer had just vacated while another stood behind him, arms crossed and a sour expression on his face. Mistaro remembered him vaguely and knew he had meant pain the last time he was awake. He just couldn't bring to mind why he meant pain and what he had done.

At least, not right away.

When the memory did finally surface of that elf grabbing his wounded knee, his distress must have shown because the seated elf frowned before saying, "You need not fear, _mellon_," and Mistaro looked at him, seeing the hidden meaning in his words and relaxing some, "None shall harm you here," the elf continued.

Mistaro nodded guardedly, the memory of what the other elf had done to him fresh in his mind still.

"My name is Ereinion Gil-galad," the seated elf said suddenly, catching Mistaro by surprise. He had not been expecting to meet a king today, especially not the heir to the Noldor's throne.

He shakily raised a clenched fist over his heart and bowed his head as he said, "It is an honor to meet you, _aran nín_," hoping the king understood the meaning behind his words and actions.

Gil-galad understood the message he was trying to convey and needed a moment to get over the shock. When he did he gently took the clenched fist and opened it, holding it tightly as he said, "I have heard much about you from two of your students. They have the highest regard for you."

Mistaro couldn't help but shake his head, "I have never had students, my lord," which was true, in a way. None of the apprentices in Gondolin had ever caught his eye as someone he had wanted to train personally and the twins had ended up teaching him more then he had ever taught him.

Gil-galad didn't seem to buy it as he raised his eyebrows in fake surprise before saying, "Really? These two insist that your training kept them alive for several years," pointing somewhere to Mistaro's right.

Mistaro rolled his head in that direction, coming face-to-face with two people he had not been expecting to see for quite a while, if ever. They were both smiling and were clearly glad to see him, both reaching forward and embracing him carefully, mindful of his wounds as they whispered greetings.

Gil-galad allowed the reunion, but then clearly had other business to discuss with Mistaro as he said, "Go, young ones, and see to Maglor. I wish to speak to Múldir for a moment in private."

The twins nodded and left, walking over to Maglor's bed while debating with each other about something. Mistaro was doubtful he wanted to know what it was about. It probably involved some unsuspecting elf, glue, and quite a few feathers. Mistaro smiled inwardly at that; Maedhros had looked like a half-plucked chicken for quite a while, and it had been a joy to see. It had made a rather miserable day suddenly much more interesting.

Gil-galad turned his attention back to Mistaro then, and Mistaro suddenly felt shy, something very out of character for him, but not something he could help. _Aran_ Turgon had been looking at him out of those eyes a moment earlier, and it was somewhat unnerving, to see an uncle in the eyes of his nephew.

Gil-galad seemed to understand his conflicted emotions, because he said, "There is no need to be shy, for you are safe here, and no harm will come to you. I know you never wanted this," and Mistaro relaxed inwardly, realizing the twins must have told their cousin his story so that the king could meet him first.

That they hadn't told the elf still standing behind Gil-galad was clear as he said, "What do you mean, _hir nín_? I was under the impression that this healer was serving the Sons of Fëanor and their followers."

Mistaro's expression became suddenly sad and painful as he said, "Not of my own will or choice, lord. If I could have I would have been in Lindon years ago."

None gathered around Mistaro's had noticed the healing wing doors open at this time, and none saw the four elves enter aside from the twins. Mistaro's focus was completely on the elf-lord as he asked, "What does that mean?"

Mistaro turned his head slightly, hearing the sound of a bowl being dropped and breaking, allowing one of the elves that had just entered a chance to see his face and eyes, before turning back to Gil-galad as the king lectured the elf on the importance of being courteous to guests, clearly knowing about what the elf-lord had done earlier and not impressed about it in the slightest.

"Mistaro," a voice whispered suddenly, and Mistaro had to stay silent as he tried to understand where it came from. In the end, he decided it could only be his imagination. None here would call him by his real name yet, and it couldn't be real.

That resolve was put to the test as a voice he had sometimes thought he would never hear again said softly, "Mistaro," and this time he knew he wasn't imaging it. He snapped his head to the right, completely forgetting about the king and lord as he stared in shock at his family, who was just as shocked to see him.

All were frozen for a few long moments, but it all started again when Indilien nearly launched herself at him and threw her arms around him, starting to cry from the shock and joy of seeing him again.

Mistaro was also frozen in shock for only a moment longer before he was able to embrace his mother again. He was still very weak, but she didn't care. She pulled out of his arms a moment later, hands on his cheeks as she took in every feature and detail before pulling him back into her arms, almost unable to believe he was truly in front of her and in her arms once more.

"Oh….my son….Mistaro….my son…." she whispered, tears still falling.

Mistaro was trying to keep his own tears at bay as he whispered, "_Naneth_," and he could feel his mother smile in joy and relief.

A few moments longer and Indilien was able to let go, to have her place immediately taken by Laurorno. He also embraced his son, struggling to keep his tears and emotions under control. It had been so long since he had felt such extreme joy, and he wanted to savor every moment. Mistaro was clearly starting to tire, as he didn't try to hug his father in return, but he did nestle his head in his father's shoulder, just as he had when he was young, and an unchecked sob suddenly slipped past Laurorno's defenses. That sob released years of pent-up anxiety and pain, unable to be at peace when he thought his son was a thrall and slave of Morgoth.

It was almost too much to take in.

But there were still others who needed to be part of this reunion, and Laurorno pulled away and let his daughter take his place. She did, a bit shy at seeing her brother after so long, but he knew what to do and quietly said, "_Nalyë vanima, nitya onórë_," causing his sister to relax and embrace him as well.

Elmendië only held him for a few moments and then stood back, as there was one more who had not become part of the reunion yet but needed to be. Quildolorë stood nearby, and Mistaro's confusion about his sister's actions disappeared as soon as he saw the one that had stolen his heart so many years ago.

He smiled, the smile meant only for her, and then she was in his arms with tears in her eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then their lips met.

Eventually, the need to breathe ended the kiss, but Quildolorë had no intention of leaving his side anytime soon. She nestled close to him, his arm around her, and they both were relieved it was finally over and he was home where he belonged.

The elf-lord behind Gil-galad, Golwenor, had been silent throughout the reunion but now he needed some answers and said as much: "I do not understand, _hir nín_?" he asked Gil-galad quietly, "What is happening? Who is this elf?"

Gil-galad answered, while others in hearing range turned to listen, "This is Mistaro, son of Indilien and Laurorno. He was taken captive by the Fëanorians to be their healer after the Fall of Gondolin."

As Golwenor shook his head in disbelief Mistaro said, "It is true. I was taken after their healer was killed."

"But how did you know to come here today? Not many know of the twins return," Golwenor asked Laurorno.

"That was our doing," Elros said, "We knew that Mistaro's family were trying to get to Lindon when he was taken. We also knew who Quildolorë was, or at least what she looked like. I recognized her while I was exploring the city when we first arrived. Elrond confirmed my suspicions later on."

"How did you know me? And why did you not say anything?" Quildolorë asked from her position next to Mistaro.

Elros ducked his head slightly, "As to the first question, well…. let's just say someone was more than a little homesick and would tell us stories late at night about Gondolin and a maid with hair like spun gold and eyes as green as emeralds when we had nightmares."

Mistaro blushed slightly but smiled when Quildolorë only curled up more next to him, clearly not minding in the slightest about how Mistaro had overcome his homesickness for her and his family.

Elros then said, wincing slightly as he did, "As for the second question, we did not entirely know how to broach the subject. Everyone that knew Mistaro was so full of grief that we did not know where to start. And there was the problem that nothing could be done at the time about freeing him. Himring was out of everyone's reach. It was a painful truth we had to be unhappy with."

Quildolorë and Mistaro's family nodded. As unhappy as they were to admit it, it made sense.

Golwenor then asked for he was almost bursting with questions: "Why did the Fëanorians take you? There must have been other healers, or they must have had at least one healer that would stay behind in Himring."

Mistaro shook his head and smiled slightly, "Yes they did have a healer that stayed behind in Himring. He was killed around the time Gondolin fell, and then they had none. They had watched as I got separated from the other groups of survivors, then took me when I was gathering my thoughts. The only comfort I had during that experience was Maglor making sure my family reached Sirion safely. Then I was taken to Himring. They needed a healer of my skill, and would not settle for anything less."

"Did you not try to escape? I mean, they took you against your will, when you had no desire to aid them," Elmendië said.

Mistaro nodded, his eyes empty as he looked at her, "Many times in the beginning. Then Maedhros told the border guards to shoot anyone leaving the Keep at night, when they had no business leaving, and so I stopped trying."

"When we left it was only because Mistaro said that we knew everything he could teach us about healing and surviving the Wilds and the different leaves, berries, and herbs we could use to live," Elrond said quietly from where he sat next to Maglor, "Learning from him served us well."

Mistaro smiled tiredly when he heard that, the exhaustion he had been fighting catching up to him rather rapidly. Seeing this Gil-galad quietly rose. Putting a hand on Mistaro's shoulder he said, "I hope that you know that you will not be harmed here. You are also welcome to lend your skills here if you so desire when you are healed. I am certain that Hadlathon can find a use for you and your abilities."

Mistaro was able to agree sleepily before falling asleep once more, his family with him and his betrothed beside him, grateful it was finally over and he was finally free of the Fëanorians.

It had been a long time.

* * *

The next day came soon enough for Mistaro. His waking moments were spent with his family, hearing about everything that had recently happened in Mithlond and with their family. Eventually, though, they all left to refresh themselves and Mistaro was left alone for the first time after a healer changed his bandages. He made the mistake of looking at the mess that was his knee but was able to stay collected as the healer tended him.

Once that was done he was actually alone, but it only lasted a few moments before the healing wing door opened and a familiar face poked his head in. Seeing his friend awake he opened the door a bit more and let the rest of himself in, and Mistaro smiled. He had been waiting and hoping for this reunion for a long time.

The other elf had been waiting for it too, clearly, because his smile widened as he shut the door and walked over to Mistaro's bed, taking the healer in as he did so. Mistaro was a bit paler than usual and had shadows under his eyes, but his eyes were alert and bright. He had several bandages around his shoulder and torso and one around his knee which was propped on a pillow, but other than that he seemed fine.

Legolas smiled even wider, saying nothing for a long moment as he embraced his old friend. Mistaro returned the embrace as well, relieved beyond measure to see his old friend.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, old friend," Legolas said as he ended the hug and sat on the bed next to Mistaro.

"So are you," Mistaro shot back, and Legolas stared at him in shock a moment before he suddenly started to chuckle. That chuckle turned into full-blown laughter for a good minute, Mistaro joining in until his ribs protested. Once the laughter died Mistaro said, "It is good to see you again, old friend. I was worried about you in Sirion. I didn't know if you were there or not, or if my family was there."

"I was there," Legolas said, causing Mistaro to look closely at him, "As were so many others we knew."

"I saw one of my healers from Gondolin there. He was still alive, but there was nothing I could do for him. He died, all because he decided to live in Sirion when the Fëanorians were desperate for a worthless jewel," Mistaro said sadly, and with a touch of anger. Even after all these years, he was still angry at what the Fëanorians had done.

Legolas nodded sadly, "And so did others. But many survived, because of safe houses Elwing had had built throughout the city. Many were able to hide and stay safe because of her foresight."

Mistaro nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "How did you survive, old friend? You are one who would die to defend their home and their people."

Legolas smiled sadly, "I almost would have, but the Fëanorian thought I was dead after he ran my shoulder through, or likely would be very soon. He left me in the streets, and it was there a few of the Gondolindrim found me. They saw I was alive and half-dragged, half-carried me to the nearest safe house, alongside some other warriors they had found that were still alive. They got us all to a safe house that I am certain you are familiar with," glancing sideways at his friend and waiting for his reaction with a slight smile.

Mistaro's eyebrows rose, "My family's home? Are you serious?"

"Very," Legolas said solemnly but with a smile in his eyes, "Talk about a coincidence."

Mistaro nodded then a thought came to his mind, "I remember how keen your senses are. You heard me when I was at the hidden entrance, didn't you?"

Legolas nodded, taking his friend's hand then, "I did, and I thought I was hearing a ghost. I couldn't believe it was you, I didn't for a long time. Not until the twins came to me the other day and told me you were actually alive. Only then did I know it was you for sure."

Mistaro smiled then, "They certainly know how to throw a huge surprise your way, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Legolas said with another smile, but it faded as he wrestled with something, and Mistaro waited him out as the elf grappled with what he wanted to say and how he was going to say it. Finally, he found the words he was looking for, and surprised Mistaro completely: "I am sorry, old friend."

"Sorry?" Mistaro asked, "For what?"

Legolas couldn't bring himself to look at Mistaro but finally looked at him briefly before looking away. That look told Mistaro everything he needed to know, and his heart went out to his old friend.

"Oh, Legolas," he said quietly, pulling his old friend into another hug, "There is nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, there is!" Legolas exclaimed suddenly, pulling away from Mistaro's arms, "How can you say that?! After we left you behind?! After we thought you were gone? We didn't even try that hard to search for you! How can you say that?!" trying and failing to hold back tears as he thought about how they had left Mistaro behind and done nothing for him.

Mistaro smiled slightly, "I can say that because I don't blame you, Legolas. You must have thought a creature of Morgoth took me. No one knew the Fëanorians were so close or so desperate. I don't blame you Legolas, because you did the vest you could, and kept my family safe. That is all I could hope for."

"You are too forgiving, old friend," Legolas said with a weak smile, "I have missed that."

"And I have missed everyone," Mistaro said softly, "It has been a long time."

Legolas nodded, then suddenly brightened as his mood improved quite a bit as he remembered some news that he knew Mistaro would love to hear, "You won't believe this Mistaro, but Glorfindel has been reborn. He has returned from beyond the Sea!"

Silence.

Mistaro was completely shocked, judging by the look on his face. He was staring at Legolas as if couldn't believe it, and just when Legolas was about to lean forward and see if he was okay Mistaro grabbed his arm, tightly, "Are you sure? You are not lying? You have really seen him?"

Legolas nodded, not trying to hide his glad smile, "Yes, I have not just seen him, I have spoken to him. He is as real as you and me," Mistaro smiled then, clearly glad to hear it, and Legolas added, "He was reembodied to bring messages from across the Sea. Apparently, Elwing and Eärendil made it to Valinor and were able to beg the Valar for aid. They are giving it, and the elves of Aman are coming to help in the fight as well. They will be here soon. Glorfindel now serves as a protector to the twins, per their parent's requests. He takes the task seriously but is still his annoying and merry self when he wishes to be. He gets along very well with twins and they seem to like him. Although that may be because they are stuck with him and they can't get rid of him. They may have decided to just let it go and move on, for their own sanity. He certainly knows how to be a protector in an almost invisible way. It must be interesting, to have a protector given to you without your knowledge or consent and having to make the best of it."

"It will be great to see him again," Mistaro said quietly, "It has been a long time."

Legolas nodded, then looked out a nearby window before saying, "I should go, and let you rest. Your family will be back soon and will want to speak to you some more. I will be back tomorrow and then we can talk, if you want," him knowing Mistaro would understand this talk would not be a light conversation, but a difficult one that focused on his time with the Fëanorians and what he experienced there.

Mistaro nodded, "I will be here and ready tomorrow. There are some things I don't want my family to know, but also can't keep to myself. It will be nice to speak to someone about it."

Legolas nodded as he stood, "I will see you tomorrow, then. We will talk then."

Mistaro nodded as well as Legolas walked to the door. He put his hand on the handle, but before he opened the door he turned back and said, "Welcome home, old friend," smiling as he said this.

Mistaro smiled as well and Legolas left, glad to see his friend home safe and sound where he belonged: with his family and all those that knew and loved him.

It was a good feeling to have; that joy and peace about something good working out in the world.

Perhaps they had a chance against the Dark One after all.

* * *

A week or so after Maglor and Mistaro were brought to Mithlond the Fëanorians finally arrived at the city by the city.

With them came Glorfindel, who was anxious and eager to see his old friend. It had been a long time, for both of them. He could barely hold still through the formal greetings between Maedhros and Gil-galad and was so anxious he was about jumping out of his skin. Finally, it was done though, and he was able to slip away to the healing wing just after dinner, secretly hoping Mistaro was still awake. It had been too long, for both of them.

When he arrived he only hesitated at the door a moment before opening it and going inside. Sure enough, Mistaro was still awake and alone. His family must have left for the evening so he could get some rest, or they would be returning soon from dinner. His eyes lit up when he saw Glorfindel though, and he smiled as widely as he could as Glorfindel walked over to his bed in a few short strides and sat on the side of the bed, drawing him into an embrace that lasted for several long minutes.

It eventually ended, and Glorfindel was able to say, "Welcome home, Mistaro, it has been so long."

Mistaro smiled, "I could say the same about you," he looked curiously at the golden-haired elf, "How are you here, Glorfindel? I saw you die, that day in the Encircling Mountains. How did you come to be here, now, in Mithlond?"

Glorfindel shrugged, "The Valar needed a messenger, and Eärendil wanted someone he could trust to protect his sons. Both the Valar and Eärendil thought my deeds in life were honorable enough to be reborn, and protect the children of Elwing and Eärendil. As for how I was reborn…?" he trailed off a moment before saying, "I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind. Some of the wounds are still there. The Halls of Mandos may heal some wounds, but not all. Only time can do that."

"I understand," Mistaro said softly, "I won't push for an answer. I'm not that curious enough to get on your bad side."

Glorfindel smiled slightly, then his smile suddenly widened, even more, when he said, "The twins told me who you were and what happened to you in Himring before they left the camp with you and Maglor," Mistaro looked sharply at him with a raised eyebrow and Glorfindel shrugged, the smile still in place, "You were unrecognizable under all that blood and dirt and mud. Anyways….I decided that Maedhros needed to learn a lesson."

"What did you do?" Mistaro asked, laughter starting to color his voice. Whatever Glorfindel had done it would have been memorable.

Glorfindel's smile only grew wider, "I did what you likely felt the urge to do many times: I punched him, in the face. He deserved it and more, but it was the best I could do on short notice."

Mistaro laughed aloud at that, and Glorfindel joined in. It felt so good to do so again with an old friend. Once the laughter died down Glorfindel couldn't help but notice how fatigued Mistaro was getting and decided he should let his old friend rest.

"I should leave, and let you rest," Glorfindel said as much before embracing his old friend one more time, "But as soon as you get out of here, we are having a welcome home gathering at your home. Friends and family only. It will be great."

"That sounds nice, Glorfindel," Mistaro said hesitantly, "But you are aware that those that survived Gondolin perished at Sirion, right?"

Glorfindel shook his head, "Not all of them. Many survived by hiding in safe houses, while others were already living here. More of our people survived than you think, you'll see. You just focus on getting stronger and getting out of here, and you'll see."

Mistaro nodded and smiled, "I will do my best," Glorfindel smiled in return before leaving to let Mistaro rest, overjoyed to see his friend looking so well after such a short time in the healing wing.

Back in the healing wing, Mistaro settled more comfortably in his bed, letting his mind start to drift away as sleep came over him. All the time spent in Himring had taught him never to hold things at face value or taking anything for granted. He would believe Glorfindel when he saw it with his own eyes, and not before. Hopefully, Glorfindel was right was his last thought before sleep claimed him and he started dreaming of ancient forests far away and a long time ago.

Maybe one day he would find them and see if they were truly real and what they were like.

* * *

The healers finally released Mistaro from the healing a few weeks after his arrival in Mithlond. His knee was still painful and tender, but he needed to start walking and exercising more to strengthen it. He still needed help walking, but it was getting better.

The day he was finally released his family was there, along with Legolas. Glorfindel was busy helping the twins with something but would be along as soon as he could.

Between his father and Legolas, Mistaro was able to hobble out of the healing wing and out of the palace. The stairs leading into and out of the palace were a bit challenging, but he managed although he did have to stop and rest for a bit afterward.

A few elves looked his way as they moved through the city, but left him alone, seeming to understand that he was there to stay. Arodon, the councilor that had briefly pursued Quildolorë, only glared at Mistaro before walking on. Quildolorë and Legolas both glared at him as well, even though Mistaro was too focused on walking to notice.

Finally, they reached his family's home and went inside, where Mistaro was treated to a big surprise. Glorfindel and the twins had been busy while Mistaro and his family left the healing wing and made their way home.

They, with the help of a few others, had gathered all those from Gondolin who had survived its destruction. Many brought food and drink, as well as some welcome home gifts. The twins had also found a long banner somewhere and hung it up in the living area, with the words "Welcome Home Mistaro!" painted on it.

Everyone applauded and cheered and laughed when they saw the healer and his surprise at the party that was being thrown for him, but when he smiled and laughed as well they all came to greet him and reunite with an old friend, ignoring the tears in his eyes as he met so many that Morgoth and the Fëanorians hadn't been able to destroy.

It was heartwarming to see.

Legolas and Laurorno had settled him into a chair to rest his knee, and it was there that he and old friends exchanged new and old stories. He didn't even notice that Quildolorë and Elmendië slipped away or that the twins left; the twins knowing that they were needed elsewhere and this night belonged to Mistaro and his family and friends.

They were just getting ready to eat when Quildolorë and Elmendië appeared again. Elmendië immediately went to help her mother in the kitchen with getting the food ready, while Mistaro was rendered speechless by the sight of Quildolorë. She was now wearing a dress of the lightest green, making her green eyes seem brighter and her golden hair shine even more. A circlet of silver and diamonds was on her head; a gift from her mother the night they announced their engagement.

Laurorno tapping a spoon against his wine glass caught everyone's attention, and they looked at him. He looked around at those gathered there then said, "Today, we celebrate the return of my son Mistaro, and our gladness he is home where he belongs. It is a joyous occasion, and I am glad and grateful to be here with him and my family again," raising his glass to his son who raised his glass in return.

Mistaro smiled as well, even though he was not entirely sure what his father was planning but not able to ask as his father continued and Elmendië and Indilien came out of the kitchen to listen: "It has been a long time since Mistaro was taken by the Fëanorians, and just as long since the destruction of our home. Thankfully we have found a new home here. I say this to honor those that did not survive that day or the Kinslaying at Sirion, and to always remember their loss and honor their memory," raising his glass once more time.

After everyone drank Laurorno smiled and said, "But I seem to recall we were preparing for a wedding in Gondolin before things changed, and I think the engagement between my son and his betrothed must be the longest in known memory!" everyone laughed at that, then Laurorno continued, "I think it is time for that ceremony. I think we should, today, honor a love that has withstood a time apart no one could imagine."

Everyone cheered at that, while Laurorno stepped forward and went to his son who had recovered from his shock enough to whisper, "I don't have any rings, _adar_," unable to say anything else after such a shock.

Laurorno smiled, "Already taken care of, my son," he whispered as he placed two gold rings in his son's hand. Mistaro smiled and shook his head; leave it to his father to plan ahead for something like this.

Quildolorë came forward then, and Laurorno helped Mistaro to his feet, knowing his knee was still a bit sore from the day's excursions. Mistaro almost didn't notice the pain, and eventually forgot about it as they promised themselves to each other under the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar and exchanged the silver rings they had been wearing for decades for the gold rings Laurorno had had made.

Everyone applauded the new couple as they kissed and held each other close; both knowing they wouldn't let anything come between them again.

The party lasted the entire day and well into the night, just as they had often had in Gondolin. Gatherings and festivals there had lasted for days and days with no sign of stopping or slowing during the highest days of the city's glory.

Eventually, after plenty of food and drink the party calmed down, especially when Mistaro started having trouble staying awake. He may have been discharged by the healers but was still very weak and tired easily. He was helped up to bed by his father and Quildolorë, only his father coming down afterward. Knowing what that meant people got ready to leave, after helping Indilien and Elmendië with the dishes. That was another tradition of Gondolin: everyone helped clean up afterward so that no one was overwhelmed.

Once the house was cleaned everyone left, and Laurorno and Indilien were able to go to their bedroom and fall asleep without the constant pain of not knowing what had happened to their son. He was home and everything was as it should be.

In the other room, Mistaro and Quildolorë slept in each other's arms, together again after so long. They would be together from then on, no matter what.

* * *

"It's a boy!" Mistaro said excitedly as he gently handed their first child to Quildolorë. She smiled tiredly as she took their son, already in love as she gazed into her son's hazel eyes.

Indilien, who was nearby, asked, "What is his name going to be?" Elmendië and Laurorno looked at the new parents then, both wondering what it would be and excited to meet the newest member of their family. They were in a simple tent, one of thousands, as around them the city of Lindon slowly came into being after the War of Wrath and the destruction of their old home further south.

"His name is Alamdir, for new beginnings and new hope," Quildolorë said quietly, staring in adoration at her son.

Around them the new city of Lindon was being built, the War of Wrath finished and peace brought to the land for the first time in centuries. It was a new Age, a new beginning. And they would be there to greet whatever challenges came their way. They were ready, and they had each other, Mistaro saw as he gazed at his son and then at all those around him. Soon this city would be built and life would settle into a new normal. But for now, Mistaro liked this normal. He was home where he belonged and had a family of his own now, gazing at his child.

More would follow and he would be as amazed as he was today. One chapter of his life had ended with the War of Wrath and the end of the Fëanorians, now a new chapter was starting. And Mistaro couldn't wait to see what would be written in this chapter as he held his wife close and kissed her forehead, their son with them.

It was time to live his life again and enjoy every moment of it. The First Age was done, now it was time for the Second, and then the Third, and then the Fourth.

And he would be there to greet every one of those Ages and greet them with everything he had and was. He was home where he belonged, and he would never unwillingly bend to the will of another, not now that he was home. He was finally home, and it was a good thing to feel. And nothing would ever change or take away that feeling again.

He was home, and he was glad of it.

* * *

Translations:

athelas – kingsfoil  
Sîdh – Peace  
penneth – little one  
mellon – friend  
aran nín – my king  
Aran – King  
hir nín – my lord  
Naneth/nana – mother/mommy  
Nalyë vanima, nitya onórë – You are beautiful, little sister  
adar/ada – father/daddy


End file.
